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by Lynnette Owens

I am breathing your face
Although I haven’t seen it
Refresh me
I am eating what’s left
Of this game in my head and
Your rebirth is breech
I cannot find the opening
To assist you
I need to know this canal you travel
Tell me something you don’t want to
Turn transparent and look through this membrane
Would it end this infatuation?
Would it change this imagination?
If you take this cell and make it grow
The contagious breath you fill me with
Will suck me in
I will be inside this womb you call yourself
And could we be any closer?

Find more imaginative stories and poems ... return to the Summer Fiction 2001 home page

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