Vaccinating My Son
I'm close up on your face when they put the needle in your thigh. Our eyes are locked, and yours become stretched into two tiny slits that ooze and moan and hem and haw that scream aloud to tell me that You weren't expecting this today. You look at me as if to say: "How could you let them in this way? How could you let them prick my skin? How could you let them hold me down? And look, you're helping hold my hands Complying with all their demands And helping them pull down my pants To stab me in the leg! Legs that I have yet to use! If they are monsters? So are you." And I smile back as if to say: "You'll thank me for this choice one day. Your days are filled with milk and toys, Your life a scale of sorrows, joys, and this exception, this injection, may appear to be out of the blue, but it's meant to tend to your 'gentle warrior' -- it puts some fight inside of you." And while I'm writing monologues you haven't heard a word I've thought. I analyzed the thing by force I should've let it run its course. The quick way to defuse a bomb is driving through the storm before the calm.
March 8, 2019 ∙