I could barely say it. You’re pregnant?
My face clinched up, prelude to a cry.
My lips flat, forced against each other.
I could do nothing but hold out my arms,
Open for her to join me in my chair.
We said nothing for half an hour,
Her head on my shoulder, my hand in her hair.
Our shirts wet from all our crying.
She leaned up, wiping the mascara
From under her eyes, are you happy?
Happy? I caught a breath, yes, very.
I wouldn’t want it if not for you.
This is truly a product of love,
Given to me like a gift from you.
She leaned back over, I held her tight.
I bit her lip, I blew in her ear.
I noticed the shaking, I heard the voices,
What the hell! Wake up, wake up.
What do you want for breakfast? The man asked.
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Submission Name: Baby
Maybe not so funny though, if you had wished this was not a dream. But this read to me as if you were speaking of reality. Nicely written and expressed. I dont see anything here I would change. I had overlooked the satire classification until I read the ending. I scrolled up to see how it was classified and sure enough it was satire! Very clever poem from you. Nice work. Take care.