I am calm today.
Tiny feet kicking me from the inside out.
With beauty and innocence.
What will you become my child.
A killer or a saviour.
A lover or a despiser.
Will you be ginger like me..
Or dark like him.
Will your eyes be green like mine
Or black like his.
will you love me or hate me like him.
I will teach you to love all things my child.
You are already blessed.
I am your Mother.

an occulted mass kicking at light gone
a moment ago, as if in a sooty stomach,
maleficent enough to deliver the unborn.
cries that vent down a lengthening
hallway--abandoned to what forces open
an original wakefulness.
the way knowing you becomes a cryptic
comorbidity, a walk of shame every morning--
a slathered nausea, too smooth for sickness.
tons of traumatized flesh recanting vulnerability,
(mostly yours) long after a bed became a
one-sided argument.
seasons regard you with braindead gossip: 'is that
her again, she still exists--she always thinks
something's off, it's the landfill of personal stuff she
compulsively goes through. '
a nonstop pause for Jane, her yoyoing edge--a highly
inconspicuous center of attention, captured in photos
superficially waving off the fuss.
a hyperalert shutdown, Cinderella's carriage to pumpkin
developing acne vulgaris, sloppily tripping with eyes
caked on her.
angsty & unrestorable disconnects--daring selectees to
root out a fantastic despiser.
tender years designating the world as an apologist.
a chronic sense of entitlement winks out, already 
elsewhere--as if nothing ever happens.
then happens all at once, a fluorescently lit bathroom
unsparing an in-your-face ugliness.

She claims to be a victim
But she's actually a victimizer

So much hatred in her
Continual despiser

I'm gonna read Shakespeare
Taming of the Shrew

Reading is my love
Maybe all that I can do

            That William
               He knew.