The Sky is Falling and I Want My Mommy

I pressed my claim on this bind
and seized a few of your cells

In the privacy you freely lent
so deep inside of you

And by a little push from papa
formed in borrowed flesh

I came to you, a frightened hare
fresh from the rigors of the bardo

And you received me, gave me flesh
fed me, taught me, released me

Prayed for me as I made my way
into the vices and struggle

Of this craven carnival, with its
barkers and masks

—But first, I came to you

This is all of it your sunshine
where we all warm our faces

It is all of it your day, and
my gratitude should outshine

That cartwheeling sun, for what
you gave, for what you’ve done


Margaret Mary Kubasta Randall (1919-2012)

Title respectfully swiped from Jello Biafra, and NoMeansNo.