like the red hourglass
on the widow spider’s
abdomen: warnings
in these dreams there will be
            a mother who
            burns her child’s diary 
            a sudden stop
           on an ice-slick road
            the irrational desire
            to be crowned
as all newborns
these dreams will be demanding
the nurse will want to be sure
you know how to swaddle, feed
how to buckle them safe in the seat
then, away they’ll go
home with you forever
yours to parent
yours to teach yes
          to teach no