Post by sarahmay on Jan 18, 2018 1:32:49 GMT
Single Mothering In Space
Anyways, when I flip through the universe I am
Bewildered at all the becoming, Mars hit puberty and Venus is
Cradling my first child, made of many moons, and the babe has
Desecrated the softness of me, his mother, just ripped me apart.
Even before his muscles rose, he destroyed me, can you believe it? I
Forgive him! It's all a bunch of hullabaloo.
Given that I am not that well versed in matters of family, I
Have been hitting the baby books, the ones that encourage not to
Isolate, but to breastfeed out in the world, bird-calling to your child.
Judge not the single mothers, people! I raise up my many-mooned babe,
Kicking nay-sayers to the ground and I walk toward the
Light of his healthy adolescence.
Might I suggest, child, talking in a foreign language for a while to
Negate the loneliness of your one-voiced tongue. I teach my
One-and-only how to curse out the universe. While our pet
Porcupines float around, the only pets my child likes, I homeschool.
Question every spiky thing around you, only softness survives. I’m
Really having a go at motherhood now. I
Say to myself, This is the opening of a galaxy I’m foreign to.
Today I am being destroyed by a beast child, but tomorrow I’ll
Uneducate his animalism. I’ll feed him mangoes I’ve chewed
Very slowly, to put my essence into the fruit flesh for him.
While sirens and comets are exploding, I’ll calm him. Not with
Xanax but with plucked porcupines made to look like soft otters. I tell him
You never can guess the softness we can achieve by hand. And
Zipper up, kiddo. We’ve got some growing to do.
Anyways, when I flip through the universe I am
Bewildered at all the becoming, Mars hit puberty and Venus is
Cradling my first child, made of many moons, and the babe has
Desecrated the softness of me, his mother, just ripped me apart.
Even before his muscles rose, he destroyed me, can you believe it? I
Forgive him! It's all a bunch of hullabaloo.
Given that I am not that well versed in matters of family, I
Have been hitting the baby books, the ones that encourage not to
Isolate, but to breastfeed out in the world, bird-calling to your child.
Judge not the single mothers, people! I raise up my many-mooned babe,
Kicking nay-sayers to the ground and I walk toward the
Light of his healthy adolescence.
Might I suggest, child, talking in a foreign language for a while to
Negate the loneliness of your one-voiced tongue. I teach my
One-and-only how to curse out the universe. While our pet
Porcupines float around, the only pets my child likes, I homeschool.
Question every spiky thing around you, only softness survives. I’m
Really having a go at motherhood now. I
Say to myself, This is the opening of a galaxy I’m foreign to.
Today I am being destroyed by a beast child, but tomorrow I’ll
Uneducate his animalism. I’ll feed him mangoes I’ve chewed
Very slowly, to put my essence into the fruit flesh for him.
While sirens and comets are exploding, I’ll calm him. Not with
Xanax but with plucked porcupines made to look like soft otters. I tell him
You never can guess the softness we can achieve by hand. And
Zipper up, kiddo. We’ve got some growing to do.
