<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
sooner or later<\/strong><\/p>\n sooner or later i\u2019ll have to tell him about the way it cries in the morning i\u2019ll have to tell him because the condom broke he\u2019ll look at me the dirty word will sink into the air he\u2019ll turn around, did you smoke when you were pregnant? it\u2019s just the kind of irresponsible thing you\u2019d do. that baby has rights you know. how could you do this, this is my baby, i\u2019m so ashamed, i\u2019m so broken, i want this baby to be strong. CHRIST<\/p>\n he\u2019ll scream, you\u2019re so reckless, so immature, so pathetic, why can\u2019t you grow up, this baby deserves the best, JESUS i can\u2019t believe you\u2019re smoking<\/p>\n and suddenly he\u2019ll be crying, <\/p>\n <\/p>\n Katelin Farnsworth<\/strong> is currently studying Professional Writing and Editing in Melbourne, Australia. She has been writing for as long as she can remember and can\u2019t imagine a world without books.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" sooner or later sooner or later i\u2019ll have to tell about him about the baby and the way its hair is red and muddy, like fox fur or a silent night, the type we used to have when we liked to rub our thighs together and drink deep, warm coffee. i\u2019ll have […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":4,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_et_pb_use_builder":"","_et_pb_old_content":"","_et_gb_content_width":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[7],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-7198","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-prose-poetry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/7198","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/4"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=7198"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/7198\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":7200,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/7198\/revisions\/7200"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=7198"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=7198"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=7198"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
\ni\u2019ll have to tell about him about
\nthe baby
\nand the way its hair is red and muddy,
\nlike fox fur
\nor
\na silent night,
\nthe type we used to have when we liked
\nto rub our thighs together and drink
\ndeep, warm coffee.<\/p>\n
\nand the time i gave it cow\u2019s milk because i didn\u2019t know any better
\nor the time i just lay there and watched it cry
\nits tears blue, almost milky
\nand i poured myself vodka because it was cold
\nbut i didn\u2019t warm up.<\/p>\n
\nand his face will curl and crack
\nand inevitable cruel pain will
\nsuddenly
\nout of nowhere
\nsomehow
\ncrash into him
\nand somehow
\ni will be responsible
\nfor the heartache
\ndripping down his chin,
\nlike an egg or spilt coffee or even
\nfried onion,
\nshimmering on his mouth
\nand he won\u2019t realise
\ni\u2019ve been carrying this pain inside me
\nlike a shark in my pocket
\nfor a very long time.<\/p>\n
\nbecause i swayed gently
\nin the pink light
\nbecause
\nthat\u2019s what the sunset
\nand the emerging moon
\ndoes to you.<\/p>\n
\nhis eyes sort of round
\nand he\u2019ll ask me, unfurling an arm
\nif i had considered
\nabortion.<\/p>\n
\nand i won\u2019t answer,
\ni\u2019ll pull out a cigarette,
\ndipping it into the lighter
\nwatching the flame
\nflicker and dribble to
\nnothing.<\/p>\n
\neyes yellow and bloated
\nand ask me
\nin his scratchy scathing voice<\/p>\n
\nbanging a fist down,
\nshattering the vase holding the
\npeony roses
\nand the tea cups will wobble
\nthe yellow lilies etched into the china
\nshaking.<\/p>\n
\nthe light catching his face
\nrolling across his nose,
\nstriping him into
\nsomething i can\u2019t quite understand,
\nand as he cries,
\nhis tears running blue,
\nthen buttery,
\nglassy, bold,
\nsuddenly frail,
\ni\u2019ll wonder if the baby
\nis crying
\ntoo.<\/p>\n