My Poems-7

CONFESSION OF A HIRED MOTHER

My womb is a tomb

Where painful secrets cradles

An embalmed embryo

Awaiting for resurrection.

My mind is a cannon

Loaded heavily

With bio-explosives

Awaiting for an explosion.

So, father, let me trigger

For explosions are confessions-

The ecstatic unloading

Of the loaded bio-explosives.

Father, forgive me

Forgive this surrogate mother-

The divine prostitute

Violated the sixth  commandment.

Father, my womb is a brothel

A licensed Mother machine

where adultery and seduction

are scientifically sacramental.

Father, never I shared

A masculine bed

Never I spared

A single sperm or ova.

But father, forgive me

Forgive this virgin Mary-

The ousted surrogate mother

Who merchandised her child.

Oh! father, forgive me

Forgive this Tummy mummy

Forgive her fired children

Oh! father forgive me.

 

 C.T.William