to a mother not mine,

Me, like Christ denied three times
By blokes all bluster no bite 
the words congeal and die stuck to his throat
No more a foot in mouth than lover’s oversight 

I ask of our loveling’s whereabouts 
Me, contained after passage over land and sea
He, proprietor of my puplet
Uncharacteristically silent until garbling— they, they 
Out for a walk! Out for a stroll! Out yonder entirely out of my control 

Would you let a bitch walk a bitch?
Eat your words for filial pie?
Dangle the life of your life—who’d no doubt follow, soft-pawed
Not knowing better since he is man’s best after all 
that he’s just been pawned for pixel time 
Under the guise of a mother not mine 

There my boyfriend rots in front of his screen
Here i pace in my sweet, collecting rage
And ? where ? she trots I have not a clue
Because man made it so 
handed the reins over;  
hoping my joy returns in one piece 

The  prodigal son goes, astray, the maternal bogey
alights with my furry footed love on a wild goose chase
under the farce of care

The man dog doesn’t follow in his stead, 
The old bitch who whelped him