Born too soon
Not ready to leave the swooshing sounds of our placenta
You were my only defense against an unknown world
Who could stand in our way? Threaten me as I cling to your breast?
But there is another he in this triangle one who also has your love
Lying in my crib I dream not of rattles and binkies but of hammers and nails
The man of the house falls and it is you and I alone in the nursery
“My poor baby”, she says, “It is not your fault, you will take care of me now”.
And somewhere on the other side of town the father is humming a tune just for Electra
Mother lies cold on the ground, a pure accident of course, she ran into the knife
And father takes Electra away, far far away from here, where they may be two and not three
© Hannah Munroe