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man, woman, child


today at the park
were two thrones made out of trees.
one for man and one for woman, and
then one off to side only i could see–
there on the right, a chair
made of air for the child
who doesn’t exist–
some soul who may never
know what it is to live
or cry or fly kites before the rain.
i’m afraid my insides are too broken
to make what i was made for.
all these nice feminist thoughts of
a woman’s job not being tied to the home
don’t make the wanting any less.
maybe we can blame my biological clock–
it’s not me being irrational it’s science and it’s god
saying be fruitful and multiply.
i want a pot
under my dress one day or
at least someone to read to.
i don’t care where they come from.

i just want someone little
to help become big.

i wish i had a pot.

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