Was my seed in her tube
Washing her skin into mottled pigment of St.louis cube
Invoking amidst her being a strange feud
As the odd presence of a teetotaller in a pub
Her feet clogged with the weight of beach sands
Swinging her waist in unfair balance
Her mouth wane
Like murky streams in holes
cut-out in cones
Insipid like the savour of metal bones
Her words in slurry mime
Sticky as reptilian slime
My birth an awaited grace
Shutting her face
In the theatre of bizarre fate
Clock ticks slowly
Moments drag excessively
The pangs of death shrill loudly
Darkness crest her shoulders
Weakness she shuddered
Her eyes flapping like papery shutters
A form within troubles for the world to see
In a minute the ethereal world she sojourned
The energy of bliss in tears to summon
In her head were sparks of devastating lightning
Submerging her world in ferocious imageries
As I tore through her tissues
Into the hands in queue
Yet her silver – cord
Launched forth my umbilical cord
Like the letting of rope to a kite to soar
Her life against death’s stake
To hold my fragile frame
All just stood in awry gaze
As in the world I took my place
Of her pains to have me stay
she never complained
But
A smile and kiss
For all the agony in wait.
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