Infants Remembered In Silence (IRIS) - Poems

Oh, This?

Scott Abell

It's a white rose.
Am I part of the party?
No, no, no.
A brother/sister
An uncle/aunt?
None of that.
Oh, how many kids do I have?
Let me count . . . five.
You say you haven't ever seen them?
That's not really surprising to me.
For them I never really see much of either.
Now the fifth onem, he's around here someplace!
So your son you said is driving now.
That's fantastic!
Your daughter loves to dance?
Is that the little four year old twirling around over there making herself dizzy?
You say she loves to dance by herself that way.
Well, you see,
My son is an excellent driver.
He mastered his wheelchair by the time he was four.
He can dance circles around any little girl on the dance floor.
Oh, I'm sorry.
Your son, what's his name?
Oh that's correct.
He's about to be married?
Great. Hope all goes well for him.
Our son was a womanizer.
He broke young girl's hearts.
He even gave red, red roses to a few.
Even a bigger ring to one gal than her own fiancee.
Oh, yes.
This white rose I'm wearing.
We asked the hosts holding this party if they would buy it for us.
We said we would come if they did.
See the beauty in how it reflects light.
Notice how sweetly it smells.
See the perfect-ness of its shape.
This represents all the virtues of our last child.
You see our first four children we never met.
They all went to heaven in the first trimester of pregnancy.
That's why we don't see them much.
Our last child passed away a few years ago.
We see him a lot in other people and their families.
So, you have to go?
Well, thank you for noticing the white rose.

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