by Kristine Ong Muslim
He is born today
Just as the doctor predicted
With uncanny accuracy.
His limbs are frail, skin
Pinkish, delicate, and smooth
Like any newborn
With a full lifetime ahead of him.
He croons once in a while
When he is not asleep.
But I cannot afford to nurse him,
Give him his nourishment,
The little bastard
Has the face of a skull.
© 2004 Kristine Ong Muslim
Kristine Ong Muslim is twenty-three
years old and has published works in 3 A.M. Magazine, Dark
Moon Rising, The Dream Zone, Kota Press Poetry Journal, and
the Dust Devil anthology. Some of her works will
also be included in future issues of Nostalgia, Lost in the
Dark, and Dark Angel Rising. Another
version of her majors in Chemical Engineering during the daytime.
Find more by Kristine Ong Muslim in the Author Index.
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