1421 c/o Crispin Best

Antoine, bastard of Burgundy

My baby is a bastard.
He curls his hands into tiny fists.
He poos.
There are many words he does not know.
He likes his genitals to be cool.
He is a kickable size.
He poos a lot.
He is a bastard.
He does not know the word ‘noon’.
You will be talking to him and then there will be poo everywhere.
He does not know the word ‘grandslam’.
His poo is a dark yellow colour.
I have trouble sleeping.
He does not laugh at my jokes.
He wees directly up into the air.
He sneezes and he does not understand anything.
He is a little bastard.
I am sorry all the time.
He smells unlike anything.
He closes his eyes.
I am sorry when I make a noise during the night.
Everything is covered in his poo.
He does not understand anything.
Yesterday he was lying on his front and crying for some time.
He does not know any swearwords.
He is not ashamed.
He is a bastard.
He looks at you and then he stops looking at you.
At night I dream that he is pooing all over my body.
I am sorry when my head thumps the thin wall my wife has erected between my bed and hers.
He is growing.
He does not understand anything at all.
He is a tiny bastard.
Such a bald bastard.
He is not interested in what I say to him.
He puts his hands together soundlessly.
I like to smell him.
At times he is lonely or bored or there is too much happening.
He does not know the word ‘scuba’ or the word ‘chips’.
His legs move slowly through the air.
He makes noises.
I put my face near his body and look at him and breathe.
He is the smallest bastard.
There is nothing that he understands.
Everything is covered in poo.
Right now he is growing.