THE LONG DRY SPELL

babywearing

cupped in plastic with a handy
handle, babies ride perched on shopping carts
swing from the end of arms

clipped and buckled in for safety

other babies worn in pouches, slings, an ancient
wrap device like the latest earthy fashion accessory,
legs dangle, cheek rest on mama's

heartbeat

dangling Buddha

I find that wearing a baby is an excuse
to dance,

sway to the background music
as we shop the after-Christmas sales.

My baby doesn't need it, the dancing,
but I do it anyway as if it is for his sake.

Both hands free, my body freed
by the weight of this new person.

He 's strapped content to my torso
and turns to greet each face that smiles into his.

Belly to belly we navigate all the stuff
we don't need
or reach for.

~j.b. rowell