his little hands, his little legs, his little smile

tottering on in his joyful new burden of being.

the notion of bringing a life into this

meaningless hellhole feels no less than sin

but look at the way his fingers curve around

my thumb, the way he mirrors my gnarling smile

the way he curls beside me and pretends to sleep.

can i ever negotiate with my instincts

fish out the cogito from my cells

and carry this kernel of chaos

in the womb of my heart?

for now, watch the kid

as he nears the edge, my hand

automatically behind him.

~ ajay

3/3/2022