when you bond

with the alien

that invaded your beloved’s body

become more maternal

than you could be with your

daughters

who seek comfort in the

luxury of expensive puddings

nocturnal snacks

 

when you fret

that he’ll feel abandoned

alone

this cocooned clone

that stole the eyes

and ate the mind

of the one

whose name we still use

to delude ourselves

 

when you

trace circles

round the still sturdy heart

hoping for a glimmer

of recognition


Spangle is a happy grandma and hopeful poet living in Sheffield UK.

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