(For the record I never studied poetry. Can you tell?)
Five foals were born, my first litter, for all of them I care. But their father still had not returned, I had no milk to share.
I looked at my children, and saw him there, one so poor and so brown. I realised what I had to do, and acted with a frown.
From a horrid life, I told myself, I would save my child. Better he give himself now, then risk disgust and revile.
With a heavy heart I took my son and swallowed him whole. I could hear his cries of help from the bottom of my soul.
His sacrifice would not be forgot, his life would be no waste. Even now I can my body making milk with haste.
Four foals now, all so pretty, so wonderful and sweet. I feed the best ones with the milk from my teats.
My blue son takes first gulp, he looks just like his father. Beside is my identical twin, my beautiful pink daughter.
They feed and burp and knead my body, looking for more to drink. I realise what that means and feel my heart size shrink.
More foals to feed and no milk left, what shall a mummah do? I do the maths and ask myself, one hungry foal or two?
I look them over, both so sweet, one a pointy-friend like me. The other is a munstah foal, she does not fill my heart with glee.
I love her still, with both horns and wings, how could I not say so. But I know there’s only pain for her, this I sadly know.
To save her siblings, I decide, she shall follow like her brother. Until my mouth and down my throat, to become milk for the others.
Three children now, my heart does swell, no more heartbreak shall occur. What’s came before has now become something of a blur.
But in my dreams, I do recall, something of a wail. I awaken to find, to my shock, as a mother I’ve failed.
My children still hunger, their stomachs still hurt, I cannot understand. Without more food I cannot give into their chirp and peep demands.
I think of their father, a grand stallion, he has been gone so long. In my heart I begin to fear that something has gone wrong.
I know my options, but can I do it, dare I put it into words. To save my children from this pain, should I eat a third?
It hurts to say, but I must admit, it is the only way. One child dies so the other two might live another day.
My bright blue son, my pretty pink girl, neither live can I take. Their pointy brother shall be the choice their mother has to make.
He’s swallowed whole, with one big gulp, down my throat he slides. Off to join his siblings on the other side.
Out five born foals, I used to have, only two now have I got. My heart does break but I must admit, they’re the prettiest of the lot.
I feed them both and drift to sleep, my stomach feeling queasy. I hope it over but I should’ve known, it never is that easy.
They hit my legs, they beat my teats, I feel them turn so angry. I wake and see, to my dismay, my babies are still hungry.
There is still no food, there is no hope, nothing that can be done. I know that in my darkest hearts, two foals must be one.
But of these two, I cannot choose, don’t ask or make me pick. To lose either one, after all that’s done, it makes me awfully sick.
My pink daughter, she is so sweet, I feel warmth in my chest. But between them both, I know the truth, my blue son is the best.
His sister is gone before he knows, her life turned to a ghost. I sooth his tears and tell that his mother loves him most.
One foal is left, his stomach full, no more lives shall be lost. My blue shall live a happy life, if I don’t think of the cost.
I try to sleep and put the horrors of this day behind me. But it isn’t long until more pain does its best to find me.
My son still hungers, his stomach still aches, he beats me for his feeding. I crack an eye to gaze at him and hope he hears me pleading.
His rotund folds, his stubby legs, he is a sight to see. But he is the best baby and what he wants shall be.
But there’s still no food, there’s not a scrap, how can my best son still not tell? But it comes to me, a little trick, that’s so far done me well.
In my half-sleep state, I must admit, I barely heard his cries. I moved on instinct and to my surprise, he was gone when I opened my eyes.
My children are gone, all five of them, I dare not think of where. What hurts the most is the ironic twist, I now have milk to share.
I pull myself to my feet, I think of the lessons I have learned. But as I go to leave, I see him there, my special-friend’s returned.
He asks where have our children gone, at my feet he drops a flower. If I could tell time I’d understand, he was gone less than an hour.
That was a long time now, no words now have we spoken. The last thing that he gave to me, a leggie that’s still broken.
I’m alone again, cold and wet, in an alley filled with rain. I’m to be a mother soon, my foals given to me by pain.
But I’m not scared this time, I’ve cracked the code, of this I can conclude. If my babies starve then their siblings must, give their life as food.
I’m the best mummah.
