I had your name, yeno.

I had your name yeno
Filched from the defiant glare of a suffragette
None of us in our places
All chaotic, our potential forming, shrouded by odds.
Your first act of liberation was a bagel
Rabid gulps from a resistant jaw 
With teeth like vandalised gravestones
Labourious
Like my survival, illuminated by judgemental eyes.
And how I’ll meet you.

I had your name,  yeno
Although I was no more a mother, like Sylvia said
Two clinical beds adorned in one week
A disdain that rotted my guts like cheap cider.
The ambrosia of your class. A mothers milk
Solace is imbibing the blebbestain 
From a bubbled glass
Woozy
Darling, I’m already intoxicated by shame
And how I’ll meet you

I had your name, yeno.
After your three feminist fairy godmothers
A team of misfit matriarchs
In the absence of the picket fences and gaudy boden prints
They’ll be a solace in the ‘wrong kind  of obnoxious’
 For the eggs that didn’t slot into the nest
Shielded
 By a lioness rabble 
Waiting to meet you.

I had your name, yeno.
I told a cherubic nurse with a cherub necklace.
‘My baby’ she said.
Whilst she foraged for the morality of my baked bean Babe
We both wear the wounds of this fleeting
Mine is vomited cliches and soiled clothes
What now
With only shame as my saline, and 
Knowing I’ll never meet you.

I had your name, yeno.
it’s embossed in a mind that created you
rotted by routine
Constraining me like a corset
Upright again; Laced in and staunch
An iron boned brace of aggressive support 
Though i hanker for my paunch 
Standing
A forward facing foot, groping for grip, But
 
I wish I’d met you.