Poem -

Miracle ova fertilized cell...

Miracle ova fertilized cell...

Yielded pink bundle of joy
self determined autonomous millennial
relocated University of Pennsylvania
Engineering graduate class of 2019
calls Oakland, California home
(employed at Certified B Corporation)
lives with her lovely beau,
and two beautiful tortoiseshell cats.

December twenty second
two thousand twenty one
marks her twenty fifth birthday
punctuated with stunning
successful track record,
in sum re: conscientious, industrious,
and unpretentious
a whip smart young woman.

The above summarized unbiased opinion
courtesy me, her sexagenarian birth father,
whose aforementioned progeny,
she consciously contributes beneficence,
eminence, and magnificence
thru unbridled aura, charisma, and dogma,
she did/doth steadfastly groom.

No handbook (as promised
by manufacturer to boot
ever preceded by Sir-vex
gently coaxed courtesy
Sir Lance - Alot), nor followed suit
leaving nervous dada
in the dark spooked by a hoot
at onset, when our bundle of joy
more valuable than any amount of loot.

Never could this baby boomer papa
imagine how thee first of our deux daughters,
would invite learning me
how to comprehend
unfamiliar infant signalling
siren ear splitting strife,
and mandatory pronto reception,
unwittingly, opportunistically, ineluctably
glorifying, edifying, contributing,
enriching, altering for mein kampf.

Prior to parturition of our eldest progeny,
parent trap posed challenge
of lifetime Yukon bet
necessitating newly minted father
to oblige himself at expense
accruing sleep debit
cuz baby demanded, obliged, and required
his constant attention,
whereby he quickly learned
how tender loving care proffered

on behalf of infant
every waking and sleeping second,
minute, and quotidian hour
took precedence lest guiltiness
materialize begetting emotional debt,
nevertheless despite initial onset
of anticipatory anxiety no pet
tee personal issue; burping baby,
diapering, swaddling, et cetera
forced displacement of mine personal habits,

which become secondary, tertiary, quaternary...
cuz ye felt helpless to do otherwise,
thus natural born instincts found thee
to wail away uninterruptedly
obviously, seriously and visibly upset
to keep figurative whet
stone sharp every waking
and sleeping moment
of prized, loved, and cherished
your existence yet.

An adjustment mandated
yours truly to kickstart incumbent role
and immediately adapt to paternal nurture
nine months after procreation
to refocus shift from self to infant
twenty four hours, seven days a week
ofttimes lugging stroller and offspring
down flight of stairs
we occupied a one bedroom flat
atop second floor
at Pennfield Manor not heaven sent
situated within breathing distance
of Hatfield slaughterhouse five
jumpstarting odoriferous scent
when butcher plunged knife
into vitals of animal,
whose will to live slain creature
probably did feebly vent.
 

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