Poetry Sunday: The Talk

That moment that parents dread...

The Talk

BY GAYLE DANLEY

Pretty soon we’ll have the talk.

She’ll ask me where babies come from

And I will lie to her:

“Babies come from the chance meeting of sperm and egg

See the man deposits his sssperm which is like a pudding

into the woman’s vvagina and it travels up this tube-y thing

and only one of them gets the prize and bing! A cell becomes

a fetus becomes baby becomes you.

Go do your homework.”

She will wait for me to calm down,

her eyes patient requiring the truth

and I will tell her:

“Babies come from Friday nights melted into Saturday mornings;

the Isley Brothers and 3 or 4 glasses of white zin; miniskirts

and aching zippers; sofa cushions sweaty and 
ogodthecondombroke;

Babies come from blue lights and e.p.t. tests and the wet spot on clean sheets;

Lonely knees that bump beneath the table; love letters sealed

with a miss and $758 phone bills; eyeliner and lips to match; muscled

Thighs and a sweet, milky quarter of yes in the center of pink panties.

You came from this: a separated daddy and a desperate mama;

A ripped sonogram and hours spent on hardwood floors asking 
girlfriends:

Should I go through with this?

Grandma’s washboard and the dust tracks Grandaddy made when he

left her with five girls to maim

You came from this: Maryland rain, nights of shag carpet lovin’ and days

Just $2 short of the rent;

And one afternoon you came

I wanted your father so badly it hurt

Even took his last name and flung it behind yours like a spare tire

Whatever he gave me was never enough

It was like his love was a sieve

And my desire for him

Water

I was insane

Packed my dreams in a U-Haul and moved them to MD

Nothing better to do

30 and scared

You came from this:

Collision of longing

Tongue kissing and shame

The emptiness at the corner of GA Avenue

And the fullness of swollen ankles and readjusted dreams

You came from:

A poet and a singer

Fists and car keys

Peach cobbler and gumbo

Love

And that last dirty fight on the Beltway

You came baby

You came, here”

And she’ll say:

“Mama, babies come from peach cobbler?”

and I’ll say

yes.