The Confession
Sometimes we just end up breaking things
I gained weight & started breaking things.
A shower door splintered into a thousand pieces
then a garden chair collapsed.
I was sharing a secret — informing my son
he wasn’t planned & recalled
the moment his foetus writhed
as I shouted
‘I don’t want another child!’
He was sanguine, the timing just right
no cruelty but an offering so he
could understand our struggle
not blame himself.
The evening was deep & I sat beneath
the great bough building to confession.
The moment I spoke, click! & the chair fell.
Don’t say the universe doesn’t listen.
Perhaps we need confirmation.
I can always buy a new chair.
Copyright Simon Heathcote
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