Baby Fever

 My wife is more forgiving than I am.
She can hold our cats in her arms only
Minutes after they’ve ripped through the toilet paper,
Shattered a glass.
Not me. I’ll pass on that, 
Give them the silent treatment.
And yet I’m the one that wants children, 
The thought sometimes insistent as a kid that can’t sit still,
Irrational and enduring as a craving at midnight.

The toils of motherhood were well understood 

By my sister and I.
Mami liked to shatter taboos like rain does the silence,
So we always knew that she did not like having children.
In fact, if she could go back in time, 

her future intact, 

I would not be alive.
So what is it that makes me react to the sight 

of big bald heads and toothless smiles?
And no, I’m not talking about my wife’s residents,

They’ve already been presidents and CEOs,
I cannot love them despite their senile innocence.
How is it that miles of warnings cannot abate
This foolish desire?
Nature is so indifferent to human will
that now at thirty it has me succumbing to the
thrill of changing diapers.
And how I hate cleaning the litter…
But don’t worry, I’m not one to perpetuate cycles. 

My wife is patient with our cats
And I have my plants to speak for my humanity.
I water the soil even if it’s barren, 

With barely a twig for a leaf to hold onto. 

Something about life emerging after decay

Has me waiting expectantly
Day in, day out,
Like a village prays for rain after a drought.
I’ve seen how years have the power to renew
To offer love, a chance to start anew
As inexplicably as seasons.
This must be one of the reasons I can tend to a garden,
But children? 

I’ve never known the pride of our achievements
To overcome regret. 

“If I could do it all over again,” mami always said.

So my wife is patient with our cats
And I have my plants to take care of. 

LPCH