BROWN CHILD
Drip drap brown child, blood on blue hospital sheets.
Flooded and spattered.
Her little hand reaches out for mine,
Real father couldn’t arrive on time.
Big Bag of presents and welcome little child.
Your eyes are brown, your hair is curly your skin like Mocha.
I frown.
The smile that lights my true love eyes wonders into my heart.
A laugh so deep and sumptuous dances across my chest to my hand.
Smell you in, all freshly washed.
A princess sees my grey green eyes and sighs as if this is the only place where she is home.
I jerk from a reaction almost neophobic.
He dances, a brother, a tense little jig.
He stares at the bared breasts of a mother feeding and uniting infinitely.
He holds his little hand to mine
And I am undone, I am responsible, King and pauper,
Blood all the same colour,
Blood the same as mine.
My white skin, glistening with sweats from nerves.
The bleep of the machines, thinking of swear words they would not have heard if not with me.
This roman dialect dictionaries
A kiss of teeth, my consulate my community I find peace.
This little piece, this little sigh, this little babe in arms
Wraps us all and views us all for the very first time.