She, the child, she, the universe.
Oh soft loneliness.
And her body, alone, again.

Sorrow swells in her belly
Full of water and blood
While she brings plasma to life,
To clone her destiny.
She stretches passion
Beyond walls of sanity.

Smelling softly of matrimony
She oscillates amid her moods
Swelling moistly under August heat,
She vacillates in summer misery.
Vanillin scent wafts from her womb,
Bathing her in narcissistic lymph.

Head bent toward her thoughts,
She mourns the crowded seed
And offers a certain sadness
To the posterity immured within.
Through her plump arms and breast
Courses a savage tenderness.

She, the child, she, the universe.
Oh soft loneliness.
And her body, alone, again…

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