After the Test

Hey Everyone. I'm a fiction writer, so this was my first poem like- ever. Probably,it's not even a poem, it's a prose-thing. It is written from the perspective of Sara.

-Justin

After the Test

Abe came down from the mountain and dumped the child in my lap.
What's this? I asked, tearing at the binding cords--but Abe, he just brushed past me, swatting the flies around his ahead. He fell into a chair in his little sanctuary and closed the door with his foot. I poked the swollen flesh of Isaac's tiny wrist, there was even some blood, where the cords were drawn too tight. I rubbed circulation into his cotton-white toes. He refused food or milk, and stayed silent and still so long that I pinched the nape of his thigh, just to get a rise out of him--he turned his hollow eyes up at me, as if to say,
You too?
When he is older, I will tell him how hunger once drove us to Egypt. I will describe to him rooms of treasure, glinting silver bracelets. I will tell him how I marveled at my luck.
And how Egypt marveled back.
Now, I tickle and tease him.
Go ahead, I say, what else can we do but laugh?