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Angela Garbes

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“An Infant Maestro by Stewart Stafford Baby as a bag of cats, Grunting like an Everest climber, Then screaming as if tortured, Followed by innocent, cooing smiles. Drinking milk from a rocket bottle, Tiny hands move with satisfaction, Conducting an invisible orchestra, Sighing in rhythm to his gulps. Bored stares at the ceiling, As Baby Mama changes him, Then eye-rolling slumber, Floating away in the bassinet. © Stewart Stafford, 2022. All rights reserved.”

“We don't go on having babies, that's quite apparent. We only have babies when we're young enough not to know how grim life turns out. Once we really get the full measure of it - we're slow learners, we women - we dry up in disgust and sensibly halt production. But men don't dry up, Melena objected; they can father to the death. Ah we're slow learners, Nanny countered. But *they* can't learn at all.”