if my lover had a child
this would be a different story. completely.
if tomorrow he brought in
pictures she drew for him or
things he made for him;
if he started showing me
pride in his eyes,
accomplishment in his manner;
if he started commenting,
and boasting,
and explaining,
i would stand quietly, stay still
and hope that this,
as a heavy cloud,
would pass.
i would see in my lover's child
the eyes that long for me in the dark,
the hair that sweeps past my neck,
the same exprеssion that greets me in the morning
for there wouldn't be anything in this child
that would not be my lover's.
if my lover had a child
my own unborn children
would peek from their hiding places
with curiosity
eager to see this mystery,
this oddity,
this being
so familiar, yet so foreign.