Baby

I am eleven
When my mother
Asks me to heat the
Baby’s formula in her bottle
On the stove in a pan of water not
Too hot or cold tested by a few
Drops on my forearm then a
Surprise as I am directed
To sit down and hold on
To the baby then given
The bottle to feed my
Baby sister who is
Happy to be fed
Looking around
Then closing
Her eyes as
My Mom
Watches me
Like a hawk and
Years later I bottle
Feed my youngest son
Remembering the steps
From cold formula to warm
Bottle to a baby in my arms.
On the other hand, washing
Diapers had also not made
Any change from dipping
The cotton diaper cloth
Up and down into
The toilet then a
Good swish or
Two or more
Then into a
Pail and on
To the washing
Machine on hot water
Heavy soiled then hung
Up on the clothesline to dry
In the sunny breeze for baby.
Folding cotton cloth
Diapers gives a
Chance to
Reflect
That
No thanks
Can ever be
Expected beyond
The reward of the baby
Growing up to care for baby.
It is a heartbroken parent
Who has a child’s
Career as their
Grandchild
Rather
Than
A baby.