Breaking
News
Issues of Algeria, Dow Jones blare down
on us, yet inside hides
Our breaking news: Our story, imposed across a wrung face
Dormant in bed, arms tight up into
chest, breath like an engine
Shut eyes keep out the demons—she is not
asleep, but only wishing
For motherhood to become again the
perfect parent it has proven
For the incubator to warm and hum
another song
Mother Theresa has died; dead the idea
done in memory of family
Mary cannot lay an egg; just as we’ve planned
our nest for young
Deceased is the dream of seeing wife in
child
We will dig up the decayed round of this
grave elegy again
And again. And she… she lives in the land of Why?
A lingering branch over a fallow,
despondent ground
Despondent markets, seven hundred
billion dollars
Negative advertising, global economic
crisis
Congo, Taliban, coca plants, catastrophe
Our family we could never doubt will not
become
They scream the young joy of us, but we
cannot both hear
“Look Mommy!” will never mean like it
should mean
Our breaking news: Done, wrung, undone
I touch her eyelids, hiding those gorgeous
eyes that shall be
Only ever born on her
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