Way Before Daffodil

Cradled between merry-go-round
and satellite,
the first words
he would say to her
were an insult
wrapped inside
an error becomes erotic
presumption blanketed
with snotty affection.

Is it a deep blue
sleeveless floral button-down baby

doll dress
with a collar, or

a maternity
jumper? Didn’t your mother
teach you

it isn’t

polite to ask
if a woman is

knocked-up? To her face?
As she dances? To your music?
Damn, boy! Is it mine? Just you wait and see.

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