February 7, 2016I’m Drinking in Bed
And also in my uterus, I’m drinking,
no, really, drinking and thinking of you,
unborn non-baby. Non-event. Would-be
abortion. You’re in my womb in that
same way that some quantum theorist’s
cat is dead or like maybe not. Please,
stop drowning in my beer, stop inhaling
all my whiskey-cokes, it only makes
the whole thing so much less appealing.
It makes me think that your not-to-be
father should be the one drinking less.
And don’t you know condoms dissolve
in white wine, or is that Vaseline? So many
things don’t work as lube. So many babies
have worse brains, but hey: if you were my kid,
your brain could never get more holey
than mine, and we’d call that consolation,
because we wouldn’t know any other words.
from Poets Respond