Blind Date: Poems of Expectant Fatherhood

Blind Date: Poems of Expectant Fatherhood - by Dr. Brad Sachs

Brad Sachs's BLIND DATE is a poetic journal that carries the reader through the nine months of pregnancy that lead to the birth of his first child.

Exploring the kaleidoscope of emotions that accompany the transition into parenthood, the poet delves deeply into his past and present to create "a stunning, jewel-like portrait" (Poetic Reviews) of a man on the cusp of fatherhood.

"Moving and masterful..."
--American Poet

"As we follow the author through his wife's pregnancy, we come to understand not only his own experience, but the universal experience of every expectant father..."
--Fathering Journal

"Each poem is like a mirror of self-examination that the poet looks into without blinking."
--Talia Masterson

"The honesty and tenderness of Sachs's words, and his refusal to back away from the bittersweet edge of parenthood, combine to create poems filled with both meaning and beauty."
--Parenting Magazine

MILKMAN

There's a limit to what I can do, of course,
But each night I'm downstairs
Studying the silver pan and its white mirror of milk
Smoking on this electric altar.
With precision I pour it into her mug
Leaving behind a loose skin of paired bubbles
I coat the top with cinnamon
Brown stars spreading through this milky sky
Kissing the clay horizon.
I walk it carefully up to her
She sips it and reads: I study her, too,
Making sure she finishes
Making sure it flows down, down
To wherever it's supposed to go
Building an arm, an eye, a soul
Trudging through tiny veins
Like a sturdy flock of reindeer on a blizzard's night
She places the empty mug on the night table
I lift it, carry it downstairs,
Saying this prayer:

Let me always be heavy with the milk of marriage, of life
Let it flow like light from my blind nipples
Let my strong breast quiver with love
As I walk this holy pail to its soapy, steaming mikveh
And cleanse it for tomorrow's joyous offering

FIRST DATE

When my child is born
I sure hope I look nice
I think I'll wear that white shirt and jeans
Everyone says they make me look so fit
I've been lifting weights so I'll be big and strong
Like a Daddy should
Hope my complexion is okay
I plan on smiling a lot, talking gently and sensibly
Maybe I'll learn a new piece on the piano
Practice my juggling
Or teach the dog an entertaining trick.
Think I need a haircut?
I'll shave daily so my face is soft
Like my father's on the way to work
(Wonder if aftershave stings little eyes?)
The fish tank looks good
I'll have to vacumn once more, though.
Is it okay to be shy with your own kid?
I'm nervous, like a first date
Hope my kissing has improved.

PIE

I have stood blindly by this oven
For nine months
Privy only to heat
And the twitch of invisible berries
It must be clear to you by now
That I am a ravenous boy
My nostrils leap to smell the pie
That still hides inside
My tongue dreams of being drenched
In its sudden butter and juice
My belly hums with lust
I hover ponderously at the door
Poking impatiently
Marking slow, stealthy time
Wanting it to be ready already
And as I wait
What restless fruit ripens,
Rumbles beneath the taut crust
That will soon steam on the sill
Of my heart's opened window?