blackbird online journal spring 2002 vol.1 no. 1

POETRY

JOY KATZ

The Family, One Week Old

The parents, as if clubbed between the eyes
But with no memory of it, regard the infant
Who has no self-regard and none for them.
It gazes into the world and shits:
It will not be so independent again
Until old age. Where did the baby come from?
La la, mother sings.
Father has it on his forearm, king;
Baby swims, no fear of falling.
Self-forgetfulness means one has a self to forget
Grown big and bruised as a pear. What joy
When it disappears!  


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