Photography © Edward S. Gault

 

Our Children

While the twin babies gurgled and giggled, he was losing his cool.

Another way to say it—he was having a meltdown. Inferno-like rage emanated from his nostrils. He could not control the swelling of feelings, bursting inside him like a balloon at a children’s birthday party that has been man-handled for too long.

I was holding my breath—imagining a time before the tortuous sleep deprivation, before the endless assembly line of baby stuff, the bassinet in the kitchen, my fingers sticky from the powdered formula.

He exploded just like he always did, shards of glass glistened in the cracks of the paneled wood floor.

He lamented, vacuumed, submerged himself in shame.

The babies crawled on that floor, ignorant to the sacrifice surrounding them. I wanted it to be that time again when we had too many inside jokes to count, when we stuck tissues up our noses to staunch the congestion—like children,

Our children—wild, emotional, precious, tearing us apart, heaving us into a morass,

But see, I knew him even when he combusted—a gentleness that lined his insides, he stayed with me when I descended to the bottommost depths of despair, unsparingly clear-eyed that he could revive me—he did—

Tickled them, swung them in the circles, carried them on his back, our children, our beautiful children.

 

Emily Farber is an emerging writer based in Brooklyn, NY, studying with the Writer’s Studio. She lives with her husband and three sons and practices law by day. I hope you enjoy my poem!

Edward S. Gault is a poet and fine arts photographer living in Brighton, Massachusetts. His work has appeared in Oddball Magazine, Spectrum, Wilderness House Literary Review, Interlude, Currents, and Encore. His poetry collection, Airhead and Other Poems was published this year by Read and Green Books.