Pay Attentionby Chelsie Kreitzman
I sit on the patio in early summer,
hand on my swollen belly,
feeling baby’s subaqueous movements, worrying
about all the heavy things:
The baby, the money, the future,
the husband and father who just walked out on us.
Two-year-old Emmett, all blonde curls,
picks up a pinecone from the sunny yard
behind our apartment building.
“See pinecone,” he says with delight,
shoving his treasure into my lap. “So cute!”
His fat toddler finger jabs into the scales,
eyes so full of blue wonder that I want to cry.
Thank God he’s here, helping me pay attention.
* * * * *
Chelsie Kreitzman lives in Kentucky with her husband, two young sons, and a tuxedo cat named Cookie. Along with all things literary, she enjoys camping, hiking, working with horses, and spending time with her family. Her poetry has been published in a variety of literary journals, including Poetic Sun, The Purpled Nail, Stick Figure Poetry, and MockingOwl Roost.