He’s gotten a child on her—
She’s been earth to his seed.
Pleased with the idea of it,
He hesitated at its quickening,
Doubted this not-undoable deed.
With nowhere to go but forward,
She’s grown this small creation
Limb by determined limb,
Cell by quivering cell,
Thought by whisper of thought,
Until it found its own life,
Breathed in hot summer air.
Glad to be delivered of her pregnant burden,
Relieved it birthed whole and sound,
Hopeful, she’s held it, damp and mewling,
Up to his trepidations.
He’s taken it to himself with delicate caution,
Surprising at his own attraction.
And with this little thing
Gathered close in his arms,
He’s begun his fathering.
She’s seen him drift a short way off from her,
Absorbed and wondering,
And heard him murmur into his shoulder—
“I will call you Rose.
Everyone will love you,
And you will grow beautiful and strong.”
Would it surprise you to learn it's about something else entirely?