Not yet a Mother

I said that this would never happen
with no brood of sentiment but a detached and calculated awareness of my thirty one years
I suck the gelatine shells off fish oil capsules
take co-enzyme Q10 and eat lots of green cabbage
laying a blanket of nutrients in the crib of my womb.

I prepare for your arrival on an excel spreadsheet
it will take another ten columns (four years)
so I walk the golden streets swigging pomegranate juice
for its anti-oxidant properties
and build my fortune.

My own mother says that they never planned for us
so swear twice as hard I will be ready
and map things out – hospital, nursery, schools
but not you
as yet you have no face
I fear that loving you too early
hand-in hand with the phantom in your place
I would pass by saying:
that is not Arthur, that is not my boy.