Cradled thoughts.
Updated on January 10, 2010
Unborn it lies
bookmarked
in the folds
of my brain,
a poem curled
in a fetal comma
sustained by an
umbilical cord
to my soul.
Sadly I have
aborted many others,
prematurely expelled
on white sheets,
severed by
sharp critiques
and predator editors.
But this one
I will nurture,
till my head swells rotund,
and my heart is moved
beyond all contractions.
Then with a
pregnant pause
spreading my lips wide,
I will deliver it,
with wails of
joy and sorrow.
Emancipated,
enunciated,
boldly in front of
many gaping faces,
caught up in its emergence.
Each moment
hanging breathless
over black holes
of steaming,
percolated energy
at the poetry cafe,
due date:
sometime in May.
©-MFB III