Robert Brendan

(1979 / Calgary)

Babies - Poem by Robert Brendan

I’m seeing him there
not mine
so small
sitting in his chair on his
his head bobbing to the
of the music on the stereo
he loves it
and mommy asks if she
can steal one
pointing at his soft cooked
and a little while later
he begins to laugh

I was so fascinated by this
and thought about
what it would be
like to have one of those
beautiful children
around all the time
you’re old enough
I though to
all by myself
being just turned twenty four in this
town in
this year
you’re about due

and then I heard
the baby cry
and I remembered the
condoms on my dresser.

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Poem Submitted: Monday, October 17, 2005

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