mama brings home the baby,
doesn't sing any songs to it.
instead she sighs lullabies, 
eyes tinged with water
clear like diamonds.
she says the baby's distorted,
leaves it on tables that
resemble surgery boards. 
throws away organic milk and
picks up prescriptions instead,
gives away lotions for topical creams. 
the baby smells like pain, 
not honey-crackers and broth
and never cries at night.
when people call to ask how it is,
mama tells them about
its supple skin, 
tells them that flowers are blooming
on every crevice of it's body.
she tells them that
the flowers are beautiful,
even if they are weeds. 

OLIVIA HU is the nonfiction editor and an interviewer for L'Éphémère Review. She is a student that currently resides in Vancouver, Canada. She has been published in various literary magazines for her poetry, and enjoys dabbling with her creative side. However, she is also experienced in journalism, serving as a magazine writer for HerCulture, and also as an active editor for her school newspaper. She edits for other literary magazines on a national level as well. When she isn't bent over the desk writing, she is wandering the streets of downtown or huddled over a book, dreamy-eyed.