Mother's Womb

Why is this place not dry? Mother must be outside birthing Beside herself beneath a light Convulsing to let me out I wither as others can not In spite of appearances it would be madness Not to say good-bye to the womb collapsing Lapsing back to a more normal form Mother’s must keep their shape Pretty is the day What if I should stir? Do babies stir outside? I can’t remember being born Coming forth from nothing Living must be nice It is clear as the gathering night It is enough to be alive, to be me When the time comes I will leave The womb loves little company I come to my mother once again Solitary this time with a kiss Sometime before never I will return To a joke told by the universe I have never conceived But mother has She is a professional at that