POOR THING
by Lori Martin

When you are alone in a crowd
- Childless -
A toddler - running in glee and loving this moment -
Gets turned-around and mistakes
Your leg for its mother’s.

For one flashing moment
You are in the chemical-electric soup
Of squishy human hug-love.

But you know.
The poor thing is betrayed.
You are not its mother.
You scan the crowd… where is the right leg?
Maybe you can find it in time,
And relinquish this free affection
Before…

It looks into your eyes in horror
- You are horrible -
It screams and runs away and
Leaves you alone in a crowd
- Childless -
Poor thing.