Banana Being

Lab rat spouse confined,
bedridden by circumstance,
the sperm met the egg.

Twenty-one weeks in,
cramps and bleeding still occur,
imperfect cycle.

No stitch is perfect,
the radius increases,
the fluid will flow.

The father stays strong
or tries to as his spouse stays
down without movement.

In and out of bed,
just to eat and to toilet
like a Swiss timepiece.

On his broad shoulders,
the responsibilities
fell like an oak cross.

Selling the old house,
fixing up the bullshit rooms
to give them appeal.

Bank account draining
like a tub liberated
of a nasty clog.

Two occupations
taken just to plug the dike
Little Dutch Boy style.

Lumbering slowly,
head hanging low as he finds
the empty joe pot.

He should not complain,
he is free to move without
hindrance, without pain.

But the coffee has
not filter'd fully, dripping
onto the burner.

Scalding itself to
charr'd darkness, this is the state
of his inner one.

The spouse wonders why,
why her, why now, and why us,
there is no answer.

Emotionally
stunted into a wither'd
banana being.

Brown and black from the
emotional scarring, they
try to carry on.

Hopefully, they earn
their chance to be the parents
they always could be.

Reviews

[TLK]

"why her, why now, and why us,"

Hand-in-hand with the blazing optimism of the last stanza -- with all its resolve to fight for something more important than mere excellence of the self -- is this burst of doubt. I love how the rough tumbles with the smooth and the solution is this steely eyed glance of love.

[roarke]

five seven five chunks. Sometimes life comes in chunks. Like a rock slide, like mortar salvos, you're shell shocked and dizzy and battered and yet, you still have to deal with the chunks. The form magnifies the story, good transitions evolving to the end. I'd say ya got some strong discipline there. Nice job.