After you were born, I carried you for nine months in the sling. “You owe me,” said your mother.
You’d sleep on my chest, skin to skin, and I’d imagine you sinking into me. I can’t grow a skeleton, or nourish you with my body. Our bond needs open water.
Joe Pearson is a British fiction writer living in Paris with an interest in human responses to crises — whether personal, social, or environmental. His work often deals with themes of climate change, mental health, masculinity and fatherhood.
