#boxen

You curl around the plush sheep toy

In your bed for once,

Knowing that it will never reassure your aching longing,

And you whimper,

Confused,

Trying not to hurt yourself again.

In your dreams your eyes look

In every direction over an empty field,

The lambs you cared for once long gone.

Your job having been well done.

Then an ewe walking away.

Panicked, you race

To try and herd her back to no avail.

You take the newborn lamb in your jaw,

Never malicious, with utmost gentleness,

Aware of your teeth, aware of your force,

And drag it away from a rejecting mother.

Moist warmth emitting

From it's soiled wool and your excited breath,

As you look for a place to nestle the baby in shelter.

Poor herding dog.

You're but a male pup,

Wherever did such motherly love come from?

Diligent and kind

You take your newborn lamb with you.

You play it by ear,

And my, what good ear you have,

For your baby might just survive the night.

That's your baby for tonight.

The lamb of your dream cries

For it wants what you cannot provide it.

No mother's milk, no guiding heartbeat

Of that who birthed it.

Yet you stay in wake, warming it,

And stiffle your tears whenever it sobs with hunger.

An anxious, shivering Not-Mother,

Protecting your fragile darling creature.

And wonder if you'll die

From some alien heartbreak if it stops breathing.

So you keep the child company,

And you beg, if there's a god out there,

That you don't lose its life.

A farmer will take it from you

In the morning and you'll let them.

Knowing it does not belong to you,

Knowing you're not meant to have it,

Knowing you will never mother a dear of your own.

Your body's not meant to do so. Misshapen.

And a mind not sound enough to fit the profile of a bitch.

You wake up

Alone and the terror settles in.

You anxiously dig

On the old pillow you've been given for a bed

Your baby's gone.

It's been taken.

Or was it ever there to begin with?

Whose cruel idea was it to give you a heart so big

That fits a thousand lambs,

Yet can never hold pups of its own in its embrace?

Queer, broken man, your heartache may forever follow.

You will feel the thightness in your chest

When you hold your friend's child in your arms,

And live your longing for parenthood vicariously

Through helping your little students to learn to read.

You will find yourself shaking

With pain when you hear a babe's cries at the park.

Cradling a small pillow,

Walking around with it at nights,

Singing the lulls you sang for the little ones in the past.

But the empty space

That your mother violently carved within your soul

To guilt you

For not having been the baby girl she herself wanted,

Shall be filled with kisses.

I know they're not lambs,

Or pups,

Or children,

For that is one thing I cannot give you.

For I am broken with you in unison.

Please, don't shed more tears tonight,

Love of mine,

I know your pain

I feel it every time we embrace.

But I can only hope

My kiss will soothe

That wounded heart of yours,

That bursts in golden yet miserable love