Habitual
Free Verse Poem
Everyone told you you’re life would change forever.
You even took the class the old lady in the black dress said you should;
the woman who taught the class said she didn’t even need to go over the material with you.
You knew the curriculum almost as well as she did.
You brought that baby home for the first time.
He’s beautiful.
He makes you feel like you’re really alive.
That you’ve become a primal being,
Vigorously existing.
You know the feeding schedule.
But how often he cries to be fed,
becomes a bewildering fact.
He must be fed,
he’ll cry and wail until he is fed.
But its a joy.
But now he keeps you up all night,
On edge, wide awake, waiting for the call.
No sleep, no rest, his meals are now to keep him quiet.
It’s a career.
You chose it.
The baby never really grows up,
It was fun when he was young,
it was a new experience, it was different.
Now he takes up all of your time; the focus of your attention.
Constantly making sure that child is fed, and content.
Perpetually keeping the baby quiet.
It pains you to hear him weep.
He grows stronger after each meal he begs you for.
And he eats more and more each time.
As he grows he becomes bigger,
and he becomes more of his own person.
Almost uncontrollably strong.
Though he has never left the cradle.
He still needs you to nourish him.
The bigger he gets the more you sacrifice.
Money, Time, Relationships.
But if you keep him quiet, content and well fed,
no one can tell, not even your mother.
You’re alone with this child that you spawned.
No mother, no wife to help ease your suffering.
You could have aborted him.
Before he was even born.
But he’s 3 years old now.
Kill the bastard.
Start over. Fresh and new.
He’s crying again.
more by RYAN L. COHAN
Photograph by Ryan McGuire
