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by
Molly Smith
The only interesting person
In this place tonight
Is that spiked punk-rawker
With angry male angst
On the stage, microphone
in hand
He screams repetitively
“I’ll kill you…
so you become me”
“I’ll kill you…
so you become me”
“I’ll kill you…
so you become me”
I listen intently, clove
in hand
Until my mind wanders
To that Sunday morning in
Albany, NY in the
Neonatal Intensive Care
Unit
Of Albany Medical Center
When my 16 day old daughter
Decided to die
As I held her lifeless body
In my arms
Suddenly it made sense
Why cats eat their young
How flesh becomes flesh
And right then
I became a momma cat
Wanting to stuff my baby’s
tiny body
Into my mouth
Swallow her whole
So she would never, ever
leave
Molly
Smith is a an extremist
who writes to curb the racket
in her brain. She is the
editor of Failed Seeker,
a poetry 'zine based out
of Dayton, Ohio. Comments
on her work can be addressed
to alterochelyosef@juno.com.
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