I fear I have a baby inside me
A small, pink, wrinkly child
who thinks its about to be born
and sleeps with a
grubby cot blanket
tucked in its bed.
Silk between thumb and lip.
While here I lie
knees under chin
Clotted eyes and rounded cheeks
dreaming of two versions of my baby brother
maybe he has something to do with this.
The warmth being disturbingly good.
And Snoopy lying by my side,
fearful of being replaced.
The baby stretches its fists
rolling out along the insides of me
taking everything it can,
making sure I never want to leave.
(c) H Ogden
