First Born

Cell fusion.
Listens to muffled drum.
Clamped eyes peel back
a shiny water-cloud.
Cocooned,miniature feet
and tiny buds trampoline
nurtured waterways.
Queen's “I want to break free,”
your ironic birthplace song,
so evocative from
Chase Farm Hospital radio
where surgeons lighten
the mood,
cut you from your
Mother's womb.

Poem Rating:
Click To Rate This Poem!

Continue Rating Poems

Share This Poem