Stephanie Bruttomesso - Caretaker

His small form casts shadows
Across my papers.
I know what he is seeking-
know also it cannot be found in me.

'Do you love me? ' he asks plaintively.
'I fed you dinner, didn't I? ' I reply,
Sarcasm drips from my words, like
froth from a rabid dog's mouth.

Still he hovers, Smelling
sickeningly sweet -
like Little Boy.
I know what will follow.

He will wring his hands,
And ply me with downward glances-
produced solely to inflame some
ember of guilt, long turned cold
In my granite heart.

This is my deepest secret - This
unnatural lack of emotion I feel
for a child of my own womb.

I did not put him there.
He was a gift given.
Not of Love, but Force and Hate.
Now I am His caretaker.

I am too tired to cook for him again-
So I draw him near, and Whisper
The only wisdom I know.

'Don't wear your heart on your sleeve,
children are natural born pickpockets.'

Stephanie Bruttomesso

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/caretaker/