The Right Thing

Jun 03, 2008 - 13:53 PM PST

The alarm clock reads 4:00

Honey is asleep, still,
Snoring me a lullaby,
White noise from the television singing backup

My fingers run up her taut stomach,
Trapezing around her navel,
Combing the light fuzz

Honey heaves short, labored breaths from deep within her chest,
Enveloping me in the moment,
and in her somber luminescence

Scruff from my chin itches her shoulder
As I push nearer, hand on her belly

I pretend to know what burden she holds

Dreams, hopes, love…

His name would be Jeremiah, but we’d call him Jerry
Or Nathanial and then I'd call him Nat

But I have to do the right thing,
For us,
Don't I?

What if her name was Mary-Ann?

With her mother's eyes...
Young yet wise beyond her years
Genuine to a fault

She'd have my look of disdain,
Unable to unclench her eyes
When her heart was full
Of pain, of anger, of sorrow

Coated a warm, bronzed molasses
Honey ambition, chocolate natural ability

She would smell like the coconut oil
That we would rub through her hair
And be able to grin so wide
You'd be able to count every tooth

Then Honey begins to cry,
Asleep, still

Threading a finger through her long, brown hair
I say,
"Honey, it’s okay."

She turns to face me and moans a requiem with such melancholy,
I almost cry myself

I want to be anything she ever needs

Whispering, I let her know
I love her

But I don't even know if she hears me or not