There is whispering

That a baby is coming

This type of talk, usually gleeful

Today feels almost evil

Yes, there are whispers,

But instead of baby showers

And celebration

There is consternation

There is speculating and postulating

“I wonder who the father is?”,

And “Well, if it was my kids…”

Murmurs in the streets–

About what she did in between the sheets

Ridicule in school–

About how the boy left her like a fool

Never-ending

constant judgement

Feeling like eyes are

On her every movement

When will it end?

With the baby’s inducement?