You ask what love is


( I found this prose poem written back in 2018 when our

darling Emma Aroha was born and we were in Seoul soaking up the joy)

It’s the coffee cup beside the phone charger on the floor.

the mobile playing nursery rhymes bolted from above

her hair splayed across the TV remote as she sleeps

a folded clean nappy, discarded singlet, a portable fan

paper covering the fluorescent lighting but not entirely

the white noise and green lights of the air conditioning

water bottles, protein shake, milk powder on the microwave

French, German, all of them eventually abandoned for

breast milk…  the sucking reflex as she sleeps beside you

you are together on the foam mattress on the floor

it’s four types of baby carriers and the fact you love

the traditional wrap – just a piece of fabric tied tightly

heartbeat on heartbeat or head against her back

the composting machine with its hungry worms will

eventually eat all your uneaten rice, seaweed, banana

on the fridge is a photo of your Appa on his grandfather’s

knee, looking down on you confirming those cross cultural

genes and a box of grapes like pearls in tissue from your

Korean Halmoni who comes to make seaweed soup for her girl

your Appa’s ripped jeans hang from the door, belt still attached

the white rabbits dangle, and turn. I am sitting in the feeding chair

we purchased for your Omma. I can stretch my legs out full.

I’m on guard, awaiting your awakening, ready to take you from her sleeping arms.

I am your Kiwi Halmoni.

7 thoughts on “You ask what love is

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