birth control

you have a dream
that your daughter
comes home
late one night
with her new boyfriend
zeke. her face
looks like it fell
into a tackle box
with hooks and
weights dangling
from her lips
and eyebrows. the whites
of her eyes are red.
what happened to
the pretty little girl
who left the house
three hours ago? you
ask yourself.
there is a tattoo
of a snake running
up her leg. it's
a cobra which is
also zeke's nickname.
we're having
a baby she giggles,
not unlike how
she used to giggle
when you read cat
and the hat to her
just yesterday.
she pats and rubs
her exposed belly,
also with a ring
swinging from her
belly button.
in the dream you
run to your gun
locker to find
the shotgun and a
samurai sword, but
you can't open
the case. frantically
you jiggle the key in
the lock, but it won't
turn. it won't turn.
you've never owned a gun
in your life, or
a sword, but
it's a just a dream
you keep telling
yourself, just
a dream. suddenly
your wife shakes you
awake and says, honey
are you okay. you were
screaming in your sleep,
you're sweaty,
what's wrong.
we can't have any
children, you tell her
breathlessly,
grabbing her shoulders.
you have to promise me
that tomorrow we
go down to the clinic
and get ourselves fixed.
okay? promise me.
promise.