poem

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Mother's Day Poem,
A Lament

Here in your body
yet another needle,
ugly tubes running up 
from the Scotian Shelf.
Probes probing 
the living caverns 
of your body.
The human, the human microbes
on your skin's surface
extracting your life's energy
to heat up their incessant
cancerous colonizing.

Here's a Mother's Day
present Mother: a forest
ripped out here, one
set on fire there,
and poison of a thousand kinds
laced into your blood.

If we can exploit
your tears
we will.

*    *    *    *

Do you ask
what your Mother
wants?  Can
you find her?
What gift 
for the brutalized,
lying in the gutter?

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