She wants to sleep in bed with him,
and smack him in his face with a train set.
He wants to pet her,
but his heavy hands rips through her curls
and her eyes leak the pain of betrayal.
Momma to the rescue.
We smack the hand of the traitor.
We say “Ow ow ow” when it hurts.
We say “No no no” because we hurt our loved one.
We say “I sawwy baby.”
Why did my one year old son
slap my two year old daughter in the face
while I was braiding her intricate coils,
a web of construction,
freeing her head of heat,
Interrupted by a bomb.
When she boots him in the chest from my lap,
I don’t interfere when he falls.
He crawls up the couch,
sits beside us.
He rest his head on my leg.
She puts her hand on his hair.
“Hi beebee. Hiiii beeeebeeee.”
This makes me not want children and want them at the same time! I really like how you write. You have a voice, sometimes sarcastic, honest, it’s refreshing. I love poems with dialogue. I think these kinds of exposures to every day situations that are normal for one person, but not for another make for wonderful and interesting poetry. Relatable, perhaps to others. Very good :)