Somewhere at some
They committed themselves to
And so,
I was!
Small, but I
AS!
Tiny, in
Lusting to liveI hung in my pulsing cave.
Soon they knew of
My mother —my father.
I had no say in my beingI lived on
And
Tho' I couldn't
Each part of me was sayingA silent 'Wait for meI will bring you love!'I was
Blind, naked,
By the hand of
Whose good
Was graven on a brass platein Wimpole Street,and dropped on the sterile floorof a foot operated plastic wastebucket.
There was no Queens
To take my brief.
The cot I might have
Stood in Harrod's shop window.
When my passing was
My father smiled.
No grief filled my empty space.
My death was
With tickets to see Danny la
Who was pretending to be a
Like my mother was.
