Let’s say her name is Amelia & she drags
her children behind her in a sac, but let’s
also say that this is an act of maternal mercy
& when they are ready for the world,
Amelia will christen them: Jorge. Kim.
Nefertiti. Hans. Abram. Jacques. Rita.
Lars. & so on. As they stagger up her limbs
& nestle into the safety of her back, she is
right to be smug—her progeny will not allow
themselves to commit matriphagy. Let’s say
they link their small arms together,
that their mother is such a good mother
because she brings them to a stream, teaches
them to drink. Let’s say again: Amelia
was made for this mothering & her offspring
will spell her name out in pebbles they collect
in their burrows, appearing in the moonlight
to sing her praises & let’s say how satisfying
it would be to come into the world like this.