MOTHERHOOD
Trailer park
slattern, blonde,
holds close two flax-haired children.
“We need another genocide,”
she says to the camera,
more opioid mama than Viking
shield maiden.
holds close two flax-haired children.
“We need another genocide,”
she says to the camera,
more opioid mama than Viking
shield maiden.
“You know that
means killing?”
the reporter asks.
She nods. “I know. We need
to have another genocide.” —
“You know that means killing women,
and all their children with them?” —
Her eyes drop, then raise. “I know that.” —
“So why do we need another genocide?” —
“Them!” she shouts, pointing at progeny,
“So my children will have a chance.”
Husband, off camera: “That’s my woman.
Ain’t she something?”
the reporter asks.
She nods. “I know. We need
to have another genocide.” —
“You know that means killing women,
and all their children with them?” —
Her eyes drop, then raise. “I know that.” —
“So why do we need another genocide?” —
“Them!” she shouts, pointing at progeny,
“So my children will have a chance.”
Husband, off camera: “That’s my woman.
Ain’t she something?”
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