(Click picture above to view a larger image.)
by Ellen Lindquist
After I gave birth, my tummy ached.
I spat up ectoplasmic gas.
I told the nurse to place my new son
on a basket of plastic Easter grass.
I peeled back his crystalla,
looked into his wet, black eyes.
Feathers scattered to the floor as he said,
"What's happening, Mom?"
I was unsure what to do with this alien tot,
whether to let him suck his tentacle,
or rub it with green moon cheese,
or whether toss him into the sky to sleep.
Poem © 2002 by Ellen Lindquist firstname.lastname@example.org
Artwork © 2002 by Wilhelm Steiner email@example.com
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