I’m taken
to the womb
(as they say)
when embalmed
and entoumbed
by that
smile
o
yours.
someone
tells me
they
“come less
threatening
in packages
that resemble your infancy crib”
so I
laugh it off
and I shrug
like it’s nothing
i can really hold
but i know,
it’s really all down to
genetics, thousands of years old.
Copyright 2015 Golden Star Poetry
Golden Star Poetry 