Up, unwilling,

Out of sleep’s sensuous pit,

Again, the cry, thin, tentative,

Third, this night? Fourth?

Wifely form slumbers on.

Up, cold night air slaps bare chest

Stagger on bed-weary legs

One hand to pat infant back

Other gropes around squalling baby-face,

Sleep-warm, smooth skin, sticky maw of mouth.

Hard, wet gums close on fingers

Sucking madly,

Soother replaced, cries subside.

Peace, as back in bed.

Mound of fond motherhood shuffles.

Cunning female. Her turn too.

Sly, icy hand on naked wifely back.

Electric shock jerk and vengeful elbow

But then, that indefinable,

Mysterious magic of their life

As soft warm lips

Stroke stubbled cheeks,

And beloved breasts are offered,

To grateful lips,

While female fingers fondle

Male softness into hardness.

Fingers that found sticky maw

Now probe another sticky,

Moister, more mature opening

Drawing gasps of pure joy,

Whispered, “I love you,” ricochets

Between two hearts.

Soon enough, hardness enters wetness,

As her eager maw, gives and receives,

Leading to cries, so subdued,

Shared in the climax of twin passions

And they lie, this pair,

Clinging tightly, each wondering,

Might this unexpected, unprotected, moment,

Have opened the door

To an added sibling cry?