Auntie paints a vivid picture
of Mom on Johnny Dolphin's ranch
holding her stomach
insisting it's twins
fuck the white man's pregnancy tests
her labored shuffle down the dusty desert path
from the geodesic dome to the vegetable garden
these kids inside of me
they're sucking all my energy
as she weeds around the plants
like a manic esthetician
I wonder if it's two sons
to replace her dubious daughters
or a feeling of creation
something just around the corner
I want her to name them
Quarantine
and
Liberty
