DPF / Mark

For you and for beloved Sabrina and Beatrice on the most wished-to-be-beloved of days, from Tsim Tsum.

from Where Babies Come From / by Sabrina Orah Mark

‘Where,’ asked Beatrice, ‘do babies come from?’ Walter B. was hanging a painting in the crawl space. It was a painting of the babies. ‘Basically,’ said Walter B., ‘babies come from rubbing babies together. They rub and they rub. Once, I heard them rubbing.’ ‘Are you sure those are the babies where babies come from?’ asked Beatrice. She was staring at the painting. It was a painting of the babies. ‘They seem,’ said Beatrice, ‘to be different babies. Walter B. tilted his head. A door slammed. They stood for a long time and examined the painting. Beatrice was right. These were not the same babies. These were different babies. Some of these babies carried twine….

DPF / Meinke

For a misnomer of a love poem, from Poetry 180, edited by Billy Collins.

from Love Poem / by Peter Meinke

When I was a man sharp as a polished axe in the polleny
      orchard
I loved a woman whose perfume swayed in the air, turning
      the modest flowers scarlet and loose
till the jonquils opened their throats and cackled out loud