No longer floating light,
Am I carrying someone else?
Am I now another’s boat to the next life?
Out they come, the little doubts lining
Up on the shore, like troops.
Will they let us pass?
Assisted concept
I am here, on the shore
Of conception.
The eleventh floor of the
Tower wing.
How light and shiny the
The notice board.
The place where babies
Are prescribed.
Being Every Day 