Are you my mother?

—cried the hatchling,
beginning to exhibit seeking behavior.
Its mother gone silent because father—

Was I, tongue-dry, just dreaming that time
she pledged to leave me at the train station
if I darted quick for the water fountain?

He pronounced me dead in the punishment of
banishment, declared they would all refuse my
help-calls, celebrate my anguish, reject every
pledge to crawl home from my cesspool mind
to their living room corner and copy/re-copy
2nd Peter-something during their Sunday lunch
and afternoon rest.

But he finally agreed to re-family me through
belt-beatings before bedtime, my panties down
in front of all-younger siblings, to embarrass me,
said he, for how I will always embarrass them.


“024” by Kevin Ryder is licensed under CC0 1.0

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