Changeling
by Patricia Wellingham-Jones


You sliced off your breasts,
take pills for the rest of your life
to deepen the true soprano,
change your juices,
dry up your blood.
I retrain my reference,
use your new name,
wish you well with your bride
from Australia.
Stumble over he,
remember the fresh-born girl
who burbled on my lap,
waved tiny feet around her wet diaper,
snuggled against grown-up knees.
I practice love.






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