The Blues

It’s a boy, the nurse declares,
indicating the pixelated penis,
the sonogram blurry as a Rorschach’s.
They see what they want, draw their own conclusions.

 It’s a boy, the expectant- mother says with pride.
She buys blue blankets, periwinkle pajamas.
The father imagines teaching his son to score touchdowns.

 It’s a boy, the banners cheer,
and blue is everywhere: streamers, balloons, paper cups,
even in the eyes of the pink fetus nestled in the blonde woman’s belly.

 It’s a boy — the first words the newborn hears
as the doctor ruptures the silence,
passes the swaddled bundle from hand to hand.  

The new parents have no reason suspect he could be wrong.
With the birth certificate ink still wet (sex: M),
mother, father, and child go home to a blue nursery – a blue life.