In Communicado In Vitro

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic

Early poem

Submitted: May 22, 2018

A A A | A A A

Submitted: May 22, 2018




By Alexander Guinevere Kern

Copyright, 1985


I don't particularly care for this place.

It's cold, for one thing. It has the chill

Sheen glare of over-bleached floor tiles,

Buffed and faux benign, like a gas chamber.

Someone put me here, God I guess.

His two pincer fingers sanitary,

Silver, tapered, plucked me up,

A neat micro-moon, straight from

My frozen Universe, to this place,

An Unknown world, where my dreams

And hopes can be born with me!

I await permission to inherit

A womb in which to evolve.

A chamber, to don my human suit,

Before slipping into the outside Earth

A la Alice in Wonderland.

My nascent emotions ache to define

Themselves. What fruitless woman

Seeks a grave image of herself?

Was I not supposed to be loved Fruit

Formed in a natural nativity?

I resent this incarceration, as though

I were an especially virulent

Form of plague, a spare part

On a petri-platter like St. John's head.

I hear I am to be accorded certain rights.

I can hardly wait! I am ready

To get one with the business of growing!

But something is terribly, terribly wrong . . . 

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