Poems Don't Have to Rhyme

Adam

My Muse pulled you from my womb.
He grabbed your shoulders and wiggled you to and fro
Hooked hands under your arms and yanked you free
Peeled the caul from your face,
And turned up his lip
At features I found fair.
Oh, he's been jealous before,
But with you he's especially envious
Or perhaps more repulsed.
You came into the world looking
Just like your father, you see
And that has everyone worried about me.
I've fixed your diet on sugar and spice
Because I so love extremes
All my sons are feeble when they tumble from my temple
So I feed them milk and toast—
Their fathers are all ghosts.
Candied apples for my Adam
Darkened pale blue eyes to hazel
like mine
Full, sensualist lips and babyish lines
So soft, so fragile
Innocence that never was.
I wanted him to have that chance
In death he never had in life
So I played Isis
And made love to a memory
And gave birth to a boy
For someone I never even knew.