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