Resting like a cosmonaut
from premature delivery
within her portholed perspex space
purified by oxygen,
simulating weightlessness,
separate from the mother ship,
she journeys like a space-walker
through galaxies inside her skin.
No sound escapes her dreaming lips,
beneath her lids the cosmos spins
as on and on she floats, remote,
between some ether-world and this,
in a zone where she's alone
with her intense pre-consciousness,
imbued with knowledge too immense
to carry into wakefulness,
a traveller who contemplates
the stellar nursery within.
Star-child
© Copyright: Jena Woodhouse, 2006
Свидетельство о публикации №106011200629
Свидетельство о публикации №106011200629
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