Poecology

Issue 3

 

 
 

Amy Newday

 

birth mother

 
 
in our late-night conversations, i spoke
the language of the embodied, triangulated
the news, translated bomb, rape,
deforestation, weighed your life

against each species
threatened with exile
from earth:

                          i can’t help it,
                          i don’t want a world
                          of just people

and the future’s not a dinner party

to which i’d invite anyone
i love

loverless, these days, should i admit
desire, confess

i’d live my whole life to watch
this moment’s mottled sky,

the shrieking gray arrows
of the gulls, say this

to you—

when i pray, i say all
my relations

what i mean is
whoever is mine