Poetry

Barren baron – poem

 

 

     “Dear world I will no longer have your babies”

~after NB

 

But you can’t have them in the first place—

I think. My friends post the strangest shit online,

and everyone chimes in, but no one notes the inability

of my friend’s male anatomy to carry a kid anywhere

besides the crook of his arm or the crest of his hip.

All of a sudden I want to have this man’s baby.

He’s married, a pair of toddlers keep him busy—

And I don’t want his sex, just a set of chromosomes.

It’s like the groupon is going to expire, and I have

to leap now. He’s a good man, I should ask. I wonder

why he writes, dear world

Did too many of our lesbian friends

send him secret requests on linen stationary:

Give us your sperm! Or is this just the way we

announce things now, mini-virtual vasectomy parties:

Celebrate! Look folks, I’m sterile! I’m done.

 

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