Baby Talk by G. Louis Heath

My parents had a party.
Got all gowed up. Got

het up and hauled little
incorporeal me out of a

nice fluffy cloud (where
I was a happy non-entity).

They stuck me with a cry-
ing, helpless baby body,

full of needs, wet and dry.
I cry a lot and soil my

diapers most copiously.
Passive aggressive they

call it. But I make a point:
You got stuck, too, folks.

Make the best of it.

G. Louis Heath
G. Louis Heath, Ph.D., Berkeley, 1969, is Emeritus Professor, Ashford University. Clinton, Iowa. He enjoys reading his poems at open mics. He often hikes along the Mississippi River, stopping to work on a poem he pulls from his back pocket, weather permitting. His books include Leaves Of Maple, Long Dark River Casino, and Redbird Prof: Poems Of A Normal U, 1969-1981. He has published poems in a wide array of journals, including Eunoia, Episteme, Black Poppy Review, Lunaris Review, Indiana Voice Review, Whispers, Dead Snakes, Raw Dog Press, Weird Reader, Literary Yard, and Houseboat Literary Magazine.

 

 

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