The Bronze Medal - Womb

Allow our patient runs we held forehanded
Allure fell foxes on the lawn
When follow figures found our small, surrounded
By noon, came under the forlorn
And they look so sure
Their tilted heads, sombre and calm
It’s all white washed walls and borrowed clothes in uniform
Don’t wake your father up, he’s carved his sleep
It’s not mechanical
And don’t try tell me to go slowly

Where you leapt out from a stone
Turning black white
What could run from you?
And there’s another like the moon, hanging over
Swelled and split to bloom

And I can feel you kicking in the womb
And the sadness with me knows no time of day
I can feel you kicking in the womb
But you stir beyond the reach that I can bend