(published 2009 in The Fob Bible)

When I come into my wife
I've more expressions of love
than loss
as we conceive your omen.

I touch her I kiss her I love her
she moans.
Then we, side by side, spent, consider
not the act not the seed not the womb not the child

but the ceiling
and the larksong
and the laughter of someone else's children
playing on the street.