You were very small like two rocks tightly wound with twine around a palm.
I balanced you against the hotplate with my hip
and you dug into my hip
you dug in.
You jiggled the hotplate when you looked at the door
the hotplate balanced badly,
you collapsed.
You didn’t cry when they put a needle in you,
they touched the inside of your elbow with two fingers
like how they were taught to touch
this grand sea anemone,
trip to the aquarium, it burnt down.
You were soft and pinchable,
bread dough to be punched,
I affect, but then the dough grows around the fingers, up the arm,
pull the fist out, there is the indent,
there is the mark,
but it grows back,
some strong amorphous solid.
This city by the ocean.
This was all desert,
saccharin girl, but then there was you.
My cheap, sundried lips will smack you down.
They say monarch butterflies drink milkweed nectar
so it will makes them poisonous.
Cloudy sticky milkweed nectar.
Sweet nectar,
but I know better.
They were tricked to drink milkweed nectar,
there was no intent, they became poisonous,
like the nectar is poisonous,
and all the butterflies were all poisoned,
these butterflies above your bassinet
you all were poisoned,
but Mama is here
so go to sleep, baby mine,
hush,
you are poisoned, baby mine,
you are poisonous, but you don’t know it yet.
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