Inanimate surrogate mother
Made from wire and wood
Each infant becomes attached
To its particular mother, choosing
.
Bare wire
Or cloth-covered
In time
With tests of deprivation
Despite the milk available at the wire mother’s teat
The infant clings to the cloth mother
Only leaving when survival deems
To retrieve the milk from cold and steel
.
These experiments
Although primate-focused
Describe a haunting similarity
Between the mothers I was asked to choose from
Not a straight correlation
But the tendency
To favor machine-made meals
Instead
Of her cigarette smoke rage infused ones
This choice, reminds me
Of these grasping creatures
.
My odd preference
For the mechanically measured
Hermetically sealed
Thick and milky liquid
For the vending machine’s
Savory chemical noodle brew
For the gravy-laden chunks
Of distant crafting hands
Poured cold from freshly popped tin
These
These give me comfort
.
I am wary of anything made by someone who sees me
Suspicious of the homemade meal
I fear a strange possibility of poisoning
From the farm-fresh hands of the local chef
He, smiling to feed
I hunger for the package
To see the numbers, ensuring
To see the seal, broken open only by me
To have no idea who it was that made the food
To know they had no idea I’d eat it
To know that their spells
Could never be intended specifically for my destruction
Like her’s did
Like mine did
Although consciously huffing
At such silly paranoias
This
This gives me comfort
.
Inanimate surrogate mother
Made from wire and wood
Each infant becomes attached
To its particular mother, choosing
Somehow
As usual, I am the odd monkey out
Whereas my brethren cling to the cloth
I seek the chilled, impersonal wire
It’s safer that way
~Image and topic inspired (and haunted) by Henry Harlow’s primate experiments: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Harry_Harlow
Letting Go 