“Premature Feet” by ~Bell-of-Flames

This was also written off of prompt #9 on Scott Wood’s journal – begin a poem with “It wasn’t like him” as the first line. Here’s what I came up with – another chained hay(na)ku. (Am I working those chained hay(na)kus lately or what?) Anyway, enjoy.

-Nicole

It
wasn’t like
him at all

to
cry, to
shed one tear

but
his newborn
son was entombed

inside
an incubator,
unconscious, barely breathing

except
for help
from a machine.

He
couldn’t withhold
the inner storm

anymore;
in a
solo, silent moment,

the
tears came
without any hesitation.

Written 6/8/08
© 2008 Nicole Nicholson. All Rights Reserved.

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