
It was after eight marital years
The cries of the newly birthed from the nearest window
Reminded them of their only headache
…of their childless state
The concern was naturally yearning for a minnow
…for raising a minor
Usually mutual between Mister and Missus
“How did we arrive here from where we began?”
It was after twenty something scholastic years
When the bells rang for a couple to say I do
The catwalk was natural
Usually rehearsed for this day
And the day had much to do
To endure the ever-delaying bride-to-be
To tolerate the ever-deafening donno,donno
“But why did we arrive late from when we began?”
It was after the early years
To firm our feet on the ground
To feel so set to settle down
So the childless project was mutual
Naturally feeling to begin on a good footing
Mutually keeping our distance from conception
Artificially insulating our capabilities for procreation
Until we were really ready to hug a young life
“So how did we arrive here from how we began?”
It was after those make-believe barren years
It was after trying and testing and trusting
Cooperating and coordinating in copulation
Testing and trusting month after month
And trusting conception to be natural
Mutually expecting a foetus to be punctual
But waiting and anticipating only gave birth to frustration
“But how did we arrive at conceiving the concept of a conception
…so close to natural?”
It was after weeks of complaining and lamenting
Crying over a home lacking babyish noises
Desiring to hug an offspring bearing resemblance to Mister or Missus
But trying to hide our crying and daily frustrations
The conclusion then was mutual but unusual
“So how did we achieve a conception of an exception?”
It was after weeks of roaming and wandering and searching
Wondering if any was available and willing to kidnap
…and to inseminate
When he was found, he was an inhabiting loner in his cottage
He wondered why
Why such a lovely lady would choose the likes of him
When she found him, she had only one aim
…only one wish
“Do to me what you will
For I am taken for a barren
What happens after all is done
Will not be your burden”
If only he knew this
If only he could see through her disguise
“But how long did we have to wait
To receive news of a conception?”
It was after three months of kidnapping and napping
Three months of missing the paining menstruation
Three months of incubating a growing living
It was after this that she absconded
This, not at all mutual
“So how did we receive a conception of an exception?”
The joy was mutual, as usual
The post Poetry Corner with Kwesi BISSUE: Mister and Missus Barreness appeared first on The Business & Financial Times.
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