Changing the Diaper

 

baby-smiling-crib-black-bars

My friend Kate Daniels is the mother of three. Those children are grown up now, but when one of  them was a baby, Kate wrote this “down and dirty” poem:

 

Funk

 

Opening the diaper, each morning

becomes the third day, when God

created the earth, late

in the afternoon, mountains

and continents firmly in place,

the waterways swinging between,

He turned His attention

to the lowlands, malodorous

and steamy, the swampy

muck of undersides mutating

already into something new,

future home of the uncivilized

creatures who will sleep in their own

dung and arise unfazed, a dazzling

smile ripping through the bars

of the crib, sunlight breaking

like tears on their slithering

bodies and their unhaired heads.

 

newborn-baby

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

<a href=”https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/baby/”>Baby</a&gt;

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