Becoming Parents


Duckface, luckface, quackface
Mugface, mobface, pokerface, jokerface
The many faces of a selfie. 
How there are so many versions
To what the arms extend,
And an aperture records
As stilled time.

How my wife and I, on holiday,
Take a selfie, knowing
That the space between us,
That erased its own daylight,
Will one day become a gap
That needs to be filled,
With a babyface.

A gangster, who will,
Keep on robbing our hearts.
How Babyface Nelson is now
Our own little reality. The heists
That he will pull off while smiling or laughing.
While we take an image, an arms-length
Away, what will be shared on facebook
And spread in an album.

The selfie of our little elfie, with us,
The selfless acts we perform,
For an offering of a selfish happiness.
The company, formed as a merger of two,
The dividends, that crowd us,
The gene bank that will linger on,
Through another generation,
The thousands of selfies,
We will take in time.

How we are only suckers,
Of the intransient, carrying love,
From pedigrees of hope,
To open flood gates.

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