Member Poem

Sarah, 3342 AD           

The odds were high, but after seven years
came notification that we would be allowed one child.
So we decided to draw straws.

You won the honor of parthenogen conception,
enjoyed the wondrous transformations of pregnancy.
I consulted the universal database, found articles
on parenting before the Fourth Millennium.

At first enthralled, I became jealous,
but I kept it to myself, watched your body
change, tended to your every whim.

The desire for certain expensive fruits,
your craving a rare vegetable called pickles,
back and foot rubs on demand.

Day or night, I came when you called,
sometimes rewarded when you allowed me
to feel the child moving within your womb.

When it was born, I held it in my arms
while you rested. I hoped you'd let me change
its diapers, brush its strange sweet hair.
At night, I sang it lullabies.

But shortly afterward, the doctors told us
that our baby was genetically impaired, with
only female gametes, a primitive throwback
to a former stage of evolution, incapable of partho.

You named her She, called her a freak,
left me holding her. So I took her for my own
and named her Sarah, an ancient and forgotten name
that suits her well.

-Marge Simon