Six Weeks by “Diane”
I woke up this morning nauseous, and
I can smell my Mom’s kitchen
were I dare not tread; I dread it
I know my Mom will hate me
when I show, and
I don’t want Aaron to die
when Daddy knows his name, and knows
the place he will choose
where Aaron will die with a bullet
How can my child be happy
if I am not
What will my baby do with me
when she is off my breast
And Granddad is in prison, and
Aaron is dead.
Happy news today, because
I am nauseous
I hope it’s just
the plague
That would be nice.
— Douglas Gilbert
