My Secret Fear of Birth

Promenading finery in disguise;
a placenta of lies
Bleeding for all its worth
my secret fear of birth.

As of yet, no one has shown me
any road that is ambush free.
First steps? Hah! I’m staying right here
it’s the only place I’ve got, where friends are

– No sense of direction
where’s lost, where’s found?
All around a reflection –
do I keep still? Wooden box bound.

Under-equipped, under-financed
with an ill-conceived plan
Just what is the route to becoming a Man?
Blunder road bullshit (wombing away)
against a time that approaches . . .
A time for decay.

Doesn’t show himself much, but I know that he’s there!
I see him in the mirror, he sits in my chair
guffawing, the giggles of Grinning Jack’s mirth
At my attempts to stand up
to my secret fear, of birth.


© 1998 Paul Davies & Black Cat Communications
All rights reserved