Hunger
craves infanticide -
those tiny, speckled dots
that form from worms,
inwombs,
inside.
Tingling,
excitement creeps -
as tadpoles change
into frogfooted
embryos.
Growing,
throwing up -
a pain just visiting
that goes on for
forever.
And that question,
"Abortion?"
sours the taste on my
tongue.
Just
k i c k i n g
to be alive -
no longer able to be
ignored.
Then
she emerges,
the black and white screen
curling, swimming,
ahead.
Photos,
are nothing compared to
Life is not a snapshot
on a screen - so much
more.
Birth
Quite the opposite of
infanticide.
A hunger
saturated
by the pulling
pushing, tugging,
screaming agony
outside -
And this dot becomes reality.
The Ward;
no longer black-and-white
but a multiccoloured museum
of semi grown
dots, just waiting to
Dilate.
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