Awkward FatherMy thumbs press the flesh too hard
Working the pregnancy knot
At the end of her vertebrate
Just above the buttocks.
She flinches and cries out for me to stop.
With limp digits,
Fly skyward in despair
With no safe place to land
Without creating decimation or desecration
Of the sacred desert sand
Of my nine-to-five
Source : http://www.poetry.com/