Motherly Instincts

I often think about you, a bundle of blue

wrapped close to my chest as I sing

my Jaybird, my own, a product of my

insidious craving for a soft voice

mewing close to my throat, knowing

it could take a chunk out, drink my

orange juice for the Vitamin C that it needs.

 

Your hands are ghosts cut off early in the pit

of some place below my stomach, a stretchy

arena, like the parachutes I want you to play

with in P.E. and never forget the way they rise

but most of all fall, coating you in giggles and

sock donned feet poking around you.

 

I’ve never known something so selfish as to

impregnate myself for personal gain. Yes,

you will be mine to raise and tend to, but I will

be the golden retriever following you around

and running after tennis balls someone faked

to throw. But I can feel the alcohol receptors

stilled in my blood, the cancer cells wanting to

grow in the breasts upon my chest,

and the mutant firefly burning holes in the happiness

we all create for ourselves. You must not

inherit this. I won’t allow it.

 

So I’ll play Russian roulette, a chance

of cards that may play out better than

the ones hidden in the wrists under my sleeves.

You could develop doubles of parts or

swells that look off at first glance, or maybe

an insatiable lust in the linings of your unborn

teeth for candy that will numb them and your mind,

but I won’t contribute to your pain. I’ll be the one

who takes your inheritance upon myself, eats it with

a rusty spoon, and then shines it up so you never knew

it was there in the first place. 

Author's Note

Playing on the fact that my motherly instincts kicked in a few years ago but I have no desire to give birth myself, because there are a lot of addictions, cancers, and mood disorders that run in my family. I want to adopt, even though I have a fully capable womb.

Reviews

[Patient Poet (Yos)]

Don't give up .... if you want a baby , yours will be most natural
I love you style :)