I don’t have to be perfect to write,
(A true story)
Motherhood to toddlers, it’s true,
What they say,
See I had to go number two,
And left him for a few
And came back to find not one or two,
But a whole plate of noodles must have flew
Splattered as if a giant went achooooo
And because I wanted to poo,
My little dude.
Dedicated to clary.
We screamed, yelled
Moaned and groaned
Plucked and pounded
Shook until the whole house and everyone in it throbbed,
I kept my eyes wide open
And stared into the curves of his neck,
Trying to figure out why it felt so good,
And my breath escaped me.
Hand resting gently on his bare thigh,
arm sinking heavily over her body,
Except for the improvised heartbeat
Ferverishly bouncing until the two weave back and forth
In silent night.