Sharon Chmielarz

listen and read

Yahweh the Stork on the Family

I’ve seen it all—the father who killed his son,
the sons who threw their brother down a well,
the father-in-law who ordered his son’s wife
burned to ash, it’s happened under orange roofs
on this very street where nary a wind stops.
From the town’s light pole, my nesting place,
I watch a kid on the curb, kicking stones,
yearning for something more, like new relatives,
though if they arrive, park their blue car
at the front gate, tumble out, helloing, spilling
their stories and habits all over the living room,
they’ll truss the kid up with their family ties.
The next day I deliver another baby, a bundle
of trust; yes, babies have to trust, that’s the first
unspoken contract with the world. The first forgotten.

from The J Horoscope, Brighthorse Books