12 Poems Of Joy - IV
I note a lump inside me,
in my body -
in the thorax, in fact -
in my chest -
of the sixth rib.
It is clearly alive.
It is an eager, pupate lepidoptera.
Or, no, it is a slim lizard, legs bundled, incubating.
Or, no, it is a cradling mammal perhaps, coiled like an ammonite,
fragile paws over sightless eyes,
praying for its life.
Or, no, i see clearly now it is a gleaming spring
its breathing a rhythmic flexing of its own strength,
preparing to stand out into the world,
where it will do infinite mischief beyond all recall.
I have treasured it so,
loved it so, this thing,
and i accept that i shall treasure it always,
even as it clears my breastbone and murders us all.
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