Why I Am Not a Poet-Mom

Kwame's post (below) got me thinking about, of all things, motherhood. Because he brings up our cultural identities as something both constructed (a narrative) and a given (we can't choose it), and because the one aspect of identity I've ever been asked to write about was -- not my race, or my nationality, my parents' immigration, or my gender, but my reproductive status. Will you, I was asked, review some new poetry books about Motherhood?
No, I said. For several reasons.
1) The commodification of pregnancy and motherhood irritates me, and it's unclear how poetry books "about" the subjective experience of mothering aren't merely an offshoot of this.
2) The commodification of poetry books -- which includes, among the more "experimental" players, organizing collections around a theme: it's good marketing.
"But we live in the real world," you say. "We package the experience, but there's real value inside."

Right, the real world -- let's talk about that. Even as the subjective experience of motherhood is endlessly parsed, there is almost no reference to the societal and technological changes being wrought upon our (women's) biologies and how that might impinge upon this "identity." But in this day and age, how can you claim motherhood's centrality to female experience and ignore the larger forces at work to sever the female and the reproductive?
If that sounds too recondite, what about the reality of war and violence? While poems celebrate the sheer exquisiteness of infants and so forth, where is the political consciousness of other mothers and children trapped in far different circumstances?
So far as I know, there are no books, or even chapters in ordinary parenting books, that advise new mothers on how to deal with the problem of not being able to get through a newspaper without sobbing.
I'm not a political poet. But if being a mother confers an "identity" on me, it's not one that has to do with language or poetry, but everything to do with politics. And increasingly, technology.