stroller mom

bolted to the ground as she walks.

disciplines the handle with both hands.

exoskeleton lustrous. front legs convert to brakes.

around her cars and phones

scamper as they please                       

       instant like mice.

she is                                       an ancient inkjet cartridge,  

an astronaut revolving in a cage.

                        eyes metal with attention.       lips pregnant with corrections.

but her cooing –

lips pregnant with corrections.

flying cooing –

            lips always pregnant.

the cooing that flies forward to the baby:

                                                just lightly strapped to the tin, grating air?

then what?

then for a second you and I surrender

and autumn street translates into a river

and bubbles of a voice float deeply up

meanwhile she sight unseen

L-E-A-P-S

up!

and with shrewd starving eyes

rips coins and nails out of the sky

so many coins

so many nails

she hides them in her arms