Feather

Head…pain.

I pull into the parking lot,
And want to shake my head so bad,
But find that I cannot.

Head…pain…feather.

My immobility persists
While I attempt to process why
These words arrest me so.

Head…pain…feather…child.

And then I see inside my head
A scene projected by my heart,
A fascinating show:

A baby in my mother’s arms
Is rocking slowly back and forth;
She smiles, she laughs, she imitates
His coos so very well.

And as he rocks and bobs his head,
She’s taken by surprise just when
His forehead strikes her in the chest,
How hard, I cannot tell.

But she does seem to wince at that
With baby still held in her arms,
Laughing, then crying out in pain,
And then, laughing again.

I blink to end my reverie.
Feather still eludes me.

Post Categories: Poetry

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