Unready

An embryo floats

In the fluids of my Mother,

Nineteen-ninety

 

One, The linings are not a

Cityscape, nor is the skyline

 

Uterine.

 

Basking above the buildings of a

Beirut.

 

            Good morning

Sickness,

Pavement, asphalt

Islands, coffee,

Sun--in amniotic sky

 

Embalmed.

 

Child,

Your name is?

 

Housed and

Perhaps I have been

Duped!

Aborted upon birth,

            Miscarried, in preservation two decades

 

After. Phototropic before light reaches

The Earth,

 

A sunflower of summer,

Somewhere, dreams of

A summer of sun-flowers.

 

Un-sculptured wet

Clay unbaked still,

 

Born of the sea,

Into the sea

Tucked away under the foam. Of the sea, eats up

 

Grains of sand from below

(How would they shine in the sea’s black heart,

The sea’s fat womb?), and

The humor of Genesis,

An experiment, peut-être

 

Fetal, fetal,

Fetus child,

            Fetus Child, your name is?

 

Reviews

[...]

. you are a spectacular poet ...
. i'm reading these words and thinking about how nameless i am ...
. for me, this is a very poignant piece of writing ...
. i feel sometimes that i died before i was born ...