Gestation | to pdf >>
by Victor David, MD

Raindrops unaware of jealousy,
untouched naiveté
feels the moist blush of the current

that engulfs me alone
as I wander in lost perceptions
to mime without an audience
with cupped hands about my face
unable to hide
in this mysterious ether that blankets
my nakedness.

I dance the waltz of the flowers unannounced
then curl into a harmony of dual solitude

satisfied that love
lies in the instincts of a salmon.

I grow in a tick, my nine month itch
has no subjects in this kingdom,
bored I play with life's cord,
kick my blood - remember nothing

until she tires of me, then squeezes, squeezes, squeezes me
as a blind lemon through darkness into drops of light
to awaken my soul for the first time,

a morning glory on the first stretch of sunlight.

To taste my marrow I delay my scream until
I grip the freeze of loneliness,
open and close my eyes.