All Fetal.....

after i have written so much
the night will be deep and dark
and then when i go into the room
it will be so silent
that i can hear the whisking of a
bug on the floor
on the rug

and she will be soundly asleep
tightly curled
around herself

the bed is wide and the blanket is thick
the sound of the night wind is not that horrible
as i may have thought that much

the light is dim and
the room smells significantly nothing
like artificial orange or a fake
lemon

i too shall curl inside myself
cover everything in me with that separate thick blanket
and take my much needed sleep

it is a very late hour and the hands of the clock are tired

and the light will be completely turned off in such a way
that i see nothing at all

not even feeling that i have a soul

this is what we are now
all genetically
fetal.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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