Connect

    mail icontwitter iconBlogspot iconrss icon

Sport 39: 2011

Shut and staying shut

page 287

Shut and staying shut

Your eyes are shut when I tell you
I am pregnant and they stay
shut. When your sister
rings up from San Francisco
you talk for two hours
on the phone without
telling her you’re going to be
a father. Father, what a funny
word. It could have been
a laugh. I find myself
two steps behind you
following you through
the streets, your back
like a leather cliff
in front of me as I weave
around tourists trying
to be a couple with you,
my husband, striding
past Boots the chemist
and Student Travel.
You kick a Burger King cup
at Student Travel.
It’s not like it’s going to be
a dog, you can take babies
on planes. But it stays put,
in me, for nine months
during which time
your sister, no longer
in San Francisco,
lives on our stairwell
and my sister, when she arrives,
has to sleep on the stairs
and the two of us—three,
I mean—can’t very easily
page 288 go anywhere at all.
After ten months I’m not so
sure it’s even trying to
get out, that constant
tapping against the walls
perhaps not intending
escape but communication.
Do you think you could tap back
the code for come on out,
your father’s eyes are open now?