Fuck light globes,
how many midwives does it take to birth a motherfucker?
What’s that grey waste coming up
from the bottom of your stomach?
Lost at the bottom,
the murky bottom of the sea.
Sigg. Et. E…I’m a signet!
See?
Fucking the light
instead of entering it.
Making me cry big white
after putting on Little Wayne.
Wrestling as if to never be born.
How many cops did it take?
To not even be seen around you?
To escape from being born again.
How many?
How did the?
This chick crossed the road
at the lights.
Eva Birch is a writer and PhD student at the University of Melbourne. She has written for Cordite Poetry Review, un. Magazine, Dissect Journal and others, and sometimes posts in this blog.
