NO LONGER HER OWN

The baby came first,
but love did not follow
into the once happy abode
of passion’s sway.

She spat disdain,
her insults aplenty,
and found no comfort,
hidden amusement,
silly quirks
or swagger
that had charmed her to ruin.

…and cried no more,
the vain glorious remnants
of forgotten virtues.
Each silent wail
the torment of youth
chained,
every thought looped
with a safety pin
belonging to no one,
but that concrete bundle
new flesh.

Mindless and squirming,
teething, gurgling,
fatty arms stretched upward
toward something she had no desire to give.

She would run!
She could hide,
the greedy moon
of her reflected desires
eclipsed in one puff of exhaust,
pulling from the drive,
rounding the corner
no vista of freedom undefined,

Alas, never to be,
once that tiny pink car seat,
rocking empty against the back,
caught her bleary, crazed
and fate-less eye.