BASTARD, BABY BOY.
Born above a bread store.
Muddy memory: Mom. Me. Mama. You.
I knew then (that)…
You didn’t want me.
Neither did she.
Stories about me told then were
Thinly veiled disgust.
My very favorite told and told and told again:
You said “Mom, he’s ugly. Isn’t he?”
And she answers “Yes, Judi. He is.”
(HA HA HA HA HA HA.)
So now, and then too
I believe and I believed you
Yes, Mother. I am.
Over again wondering then.
Where are the pictures?
None taken.
Where are the memories?
None taken.
BASTARD, BABY BOY.
Born above a bread store.
I knew then.
-Jon Perdue
Jon is a full time social worker, part-time activist, and sometime writer. He lives with his husband and far too many animals in Montgomery, AL. He tells the truth as he knows it most of the time.
