when you bond

with the alien

that invaded your beloved’s body

become more maternal

than you could be with your


who seek comfort in the

luxury of expensive puddings

nocturnal snacks


when you fret

that he’ll feel abandoned


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.