FIRST AID FOR THE INNOCENT Poem by Runa Svetlikova

Since you've spoken and thrown my words back at me
all I can do is confess that we are no more
than a vague approximation of what we want to be.

And now you read and lose the final claim
to trustfulness I hear myself suggest with care
that reality's a fluid concept that we

inhabit circular arguments that to speak is to conceive
that words' nor children's lives are either right or wrong
but stand alone and that perhaps it's all just my mistake.

Since you question us each day I'm left no other option
than to surrender: your procreation's overdone
but that doesn't mean I'd take it back.