Father of the Preemie
P. Marcille Sibley
He stands still like a nail tapped into the linoleum,
Not gripping, but unable to move.
In a wheelchair, she sits, like a spring in the bottom of a lake
Producing tears that do not feed.
Together, helpless, in spiraling forces.
Vehemently, he shakes his head, No, later.
Trembling and bounding, she nods.
Pushed early from womb’s safety
Now, from man-made transparent shell,
Into her hungry arms.
He teeters, warrior, protector,
Wobbling from his narrow perch.
Against her tender breast, softer lips suckle.
Her well not vacuous now.
Still. He stands.
Registered nurse P. MARCILLE SIBLEY works in neonatal intensive care. A self described new writer, she may be contacted here: email@example.com
"For over two decades, I’ve watched parents of sick newborns hesitate when asked if they were ready to hold their baby for the first time. Everyone focuses on the mothers. Over to the side, I've seen the fathers."