Grandchildren
Was dream
-knew it.
Even then, when dreamt
-I bore and dealt with it.
Looked at sides…
Ran child of my daughter
-we played
-soft, sweet and cute
-and joyful.
Pleasant, it was as used to be
-the baby-animals in early spring
-suckling on mommies.
Pleasant, as the looks in the eyes
-of mothers, turning heads for watching
-and licking.
All fresh as were the
-sprouts crawling
-up from womb of Earth
-for sun-reach.
Then, I read…and I made…stories…
- (On how worked family…)
"Mom, tell me how he was…
-how he is…" ask babies.
My daughter, my dear
-closes eyes to act
-as robots; factories
-lift, mould and weld
-and polish
-vehicles for export…must be sold.
Duplicates of the lies that made up her mother
-No feeling…a repeat…digital…zeroes…ones…
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem