it may not happen today
or may not happen soon,
perhaps not for 20 years,
until finally ready to exit,
Owen will spring forth,
fully formed,
not from the head,
but in the traditional way,
awkwardly,
gruesomely,
beautifully.
birth
from alien to human
poetrydown inside,
in the deepest, safest place,
grows an alien, devoid
of thought,
of knowledge,
waiting to burst forth,
after a proper gestational period,
in a shower of
blood,
placenta,
flesh,
splattering any and all
in the line of fire
with the accompaniment
of life,
of birth,
of becoming
human,
of being
human.
the sieve and the sand 