last night I felt a salt sorrow rise
in my body, in my mouth, and thought,
having a child will not fix this. and,
I may always be alone. sugar only made
my heart shiver, and the bath
had hands like drowning. sleep
kept dashing away from me on fast
rat feet and when it did come, was
fitful, three men, triplets, in suits,
leading me and a half dozen colleagues
to a house in the woods, me complaining
the whole time about poison ivy
and the walk. when we arrived
the one brother took me to a room
where I knew he meant to kill me
as the others would the others and this,
my love, my hypothetical bundle
of multiplying cells, is how I know
I’m ready for you. I took the buck knife
from my purse and slit his shocking
throat. then I went outside
and took care of the others. someday
I may have to answer to you
as to how I chose your particular
father. but never, my love,
who your mother is. never this.
