The Mother of My Children
A Story-Poem

She stands naked at the edge of the highway waiting for aliens to pick her up and fly her to another galaxy where doctors will stick strange instruments in her breasts in order to measure the thickness of her motherly love for children and pets. She does not remember the date of her own birth or the color of her mother’s hair. I wrap her shivering body in a blanket and guide her slowly to my car. She smiles and asks if we will be home soon. I nod.
Copyright © 2020 by Harley King
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