Poem Composed Inside the Womb

.





Inside the elevator, hanging out
In the suburb of the maternal bunk,
At the very beginning, at the threshold
Of the in-and-out, near the end,
Between mud and matter,
With one foot in front of the other,
With one head in front of the other,
With one head inside another head,
With eleven fingers inside the mouth,
With one cut finger gagged and hanged,
Caveward.









[I'm not sure this poem was ever published. I found it in a forgotten Word file.]




.