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Mom read the
baby-care book.
Let baby
cry, good for her lungs,
Feed her on
schedule; hungry or not.
Air baby on
the lawn, like smelly shoes,
Rain or
shine, every day.
Aunt Jo said
that for a happy baby
I cried a
lot. I’m glad Aunt Jo
Was there to
hold me
Until Dad
returned from War.
I picture
Mom reading
Torrid
romances; I see
Dad,
resigned, file away
Brochures
for nursing school.
I hear Mom beg
Dad, tell him
Ways she
wants him to seduce her.
Dad torn
between love he cannot express
And
practical need to care for his babies
Throws away
nursing school brochures.
Mom wants
all Dad’s attention.
Dad tries to
keep his babies safe,
Play Romeo
to his wife,
And still
plow the fields of corn.
It all falls
apart.
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