Poems & Essays

21 Oct

The Conversation

Babyhood One Response

Tonight you called to me from the crib
I stuffed my ears with beeswax
And lashed myself to the pole
I thought you were being naughty
Keeping sleep at bay
You cried and wailed
Gnashed your gums
Gurgled, spat and sobbed
Crescendo of misery
Ululations punctuated
By calculating silence
At last I could take no more
And ignoring the sagacity
Of books, Brits and old bats
I came to you at last
Heavy-cheeked caramel face
Soaked with tears
Throat full of water and
Sailboats of unsaid things
You smiled at me
Polished mahogany eyes
Shining in the semi-darkness
Your bow shaped mouth opened loosely
And breathy sounds came out
Sweet milky air wafted over my face
You looked earnestly at me
And played your music for a minute
I knew exactly what you were saying
Little one, I love you too

Mandy Ruthnum is a working Canadian- Mauritian mom of two boys, ages 4 and 12.

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1 Comment

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  1. Leah Johnson

    October 26, 2019 at 4:25 pm

    Thank you, Mandy, for this touching poem. My children are grown now, and I have a new grandson, but your words resurrected for me the feelings of being a young mother of infants. What a gift!

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