Wednesday, October 21, 2020

Happybaby by Scott Ferry

 after a long day of chasing my infant son 

away from the cat’s water bowl 

i now have him chasing superfood puffs

around his highchair table 

while i make chicken burritos

ipa and whisky handy and chet baker 

tickling the ether through this 

late september evening

 

my boy drops about half of the rings

with his less-than prehensile thumbs

but when he claws at one with his swollen clumps

he reminds me of me when i was too drunk to sleep

(I have never been too drunk to eat)

 

this piano and trumpet feel like i never had pain

like i should never care and now i know why

people become alcoholics but sadly

(or not at all sadly) i can never drink 

in the morning to keep the numb 

parade rolling down this blind curve

so i hurt and dry heave (if i go that far)

and stop 

 

and as i have been selfishly writing

my son has ripped off his bib 

and has placed a clotted puff in his hair 

so i extricate it softly and reward

him with more puffs me with a sip 

of beer all these distractions

from the great lingering pain

or the invisible god 

in our wet

hands






Scott Ferry helps our Veterans heal as a RN. He has recent work in American Journal of Poetry, Misfit, and Cultural Weekly, among others. His second book Mr. Rogers Kills Fruit Flies will be published by Main St Rag in Fall 2020. More of his work can be found at ferrypoetry.com.



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