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
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