I am learning to love my child whose father split my legs into an opened brochure to read hallowed letters of a sacred light I am learning to love him even when his pout is the picture of a man who snatched the knowledge of how to smile from my spout I am learning to love my child My face clouds up at will when his air comes to remind of that day’s odour when a skin bruised mine and razor-sharp fingers cut thick anguish whose scars refuse to shrink I am learning to love him even when he bites my…
