How were you born, my lonely Julia?
Delivered from a surrogate’s young womb?
Anonymously fathered by a cypher
To fill a sterile couple’s nursery room?
Did gloved attendants offer you the bottle?
Did foreign nannies tend your early years?
Your loving parents hired out your childhood
So they could focus on their own careers.
As soon as you could walk, you went to daycare,
Learning, too young, the pattern of your days
Which was to be, until death or retirement,
Peregrination; dawn-to-dusk malaise.
Rhythm of drudgery and entertainment,
Assessments to ensure your fitting-in;
Programs to prepare you for a future
Free of failure, fear, sickness, or sin. Continue reading Elegy for a Daughter of the State