Happiness

Poetry
David Polochanin


Photo Credit: Quinn Dombrowski/Flickr (CC-by-sa)

Two old ladies are practically in tears
as a new mother pushes her shopping cart
toward the checkout line at Stop and Shop,
carrying her infant in a shoulder-strapped pouch.
I have not witnessed this kind of happiness
in a long time. The young mom is overwhelmed
by the ocean of parenthood, you can tell,
and I am thinking from my angle
near a shelf of cereal that this may be
the first time she has gone out in public
with the baby in tow. How many days old?
What is her name? The grandmothers are dying to know,
not meaning to be intrusive, but they can’t help it.
They want to touch the little girl with their slender,
arthritic hands, and move their aged faces
close to hers to smell the smooth,
perfect flesh of a new life.

pencil

David Polochanin is a teacher, essayist, poet, and former journalist based in Connecticut. His poems have previously appeared in Toasted Cheese, Negative Suck, Blueline, Albatross, Gadfly Online, and Blood and Thunder. Email: polochanind[at]glastonburyus.org

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