Where Babies Come From
For my eighth birthday
I got a toy train set
my father helped assemble.
My job was to hand him
pieces of track and re-light
the cigarettes that went out
in his mouth. Halfway
through, I asked him
where babies come from.
He told me that eight years
ago today I showed up
on the front stoop
in a cardboard box, how
he spent the whole afternoon
putting me together,
just like this train set,
that I was probably lucky
the box arrived on a Saturday.
poem by Jeffrey McDaniel
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
