two poems
Post-graduation
All I got was a peck on the cheek
and “don’t wait up, honey,”
an executive farewell
for twenty-five years
of nurtured dreams.
Seems like a history of compromise
“no” would hurt feelings,
mostly my own, in rebound.
The business suits lie dusty
in my wedding luggage—
the closet is full of evening wear.
the portfolio—imagine, a week’s pay—
proud by-lines on yellowed newsprint.
(“What has she to complain about?”
says Mrs. Next-door-neighbour,
“A house, a husband, children and car,
and all so beautiful!”)
The morning has begun.
Leaning to pat the dog,
I turn to clear the sink
of a good cook’s breakfast remains.
——
A daughter is born
Dredged up
From the depths of neo-natal experience
A memory stirs.
While head and hands groped for life
In the womb-darkness
Of pre-birth,
Tiny feet found
Their first breath
In the bright hospital air.
A little body
Inched out into
The adult world, defined
By adult-set hopes.
Before even,
The baby eyes saw
Their first rays of light,
The voices fell—
“It’s a girl”.
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