Can you put a mother’s love in a jar?
Can you put a fetus in a vaccine?
Heavy diapers fall to the knees.
A cackle, a crinkle, a sneeze.
How do I get a wife to call me down?
A nut allergy. An allegiance to an idea.
A cow’s drippings are the only acceptable thing.
A natural birth,
not in dirty hospital,
not in dirty electricity.
Eat the placenta—
it will give you hives.
She has psoriasis; he has mites.
Are you ready to do what I did?
Otherwise, otherwise, otherwise.
The radio waves are killing our signs.
You don’t believe me, but believe me.
This time, the women go on and on,
the men are hushed babies, their heavy eyes slouch.
Eleven children orbiting,
their cries like tea kettles screaming,
the piano chords and their cacophony.
How do I say this?
How much do you want this?
How much can you look like us?