Prior to my birth. My mind said,
(not sure why, but it often talks to me)
“This was before you were even a twinkle in your father’s eye.”
Phrases I have heard all my life often seem forever
Saddled with the meaning I gave them using a child’s mind.
For 44 years I believed,
Without even really thinking about it,
that the “twinkle in my father’s eye” was the
Pure unadulterated joy he felt knowing that
I, his precious daughter, would someday
Come into being to
Enrich and fulfill his life.
It just dawned on me today that it is likely referring to
The flirtatious glance that is the true moment of conception.
There was a time when we were all nothing more than
The lustful leer of a woodie-wearing boy who thought his
Asp was an anaconda.
Our first raspy wail was caused by that slap on the ass
Which followed the pointy-headed journey through a very tight place
After the squeezing and squeezing
And living upside down
Spawned by nine months of cell reproduction
starting from a blastocyst created by that lucky sperm
Who won the gold in the freestyle
Of the biological Olympics and
Pierced the membrane of a single egg . . .
. . . Because a penis ejaculated in a vagina after
Kissing and hugging and rolling and spooning and
All because of a twinkle in the eye of some dude who thought
His roll of dimes just might get to pretend it was a worth a whole lot more
And play a little game of cha-ching.
And that, if you want to get downright technical, is the moment of conception.
So the right-wingers and Catholics and pro-lifers who believe that
Life must be allowed to blossom from the tiniest potential
To a full-fledged being
should insist that their daughters follow through,
Stay out late after the dance,
And create the potential found in the twinkle
Of a school-boy’s eye.
Deb Moore 