Writing from the stemistry lab
Fiddled-with embryos
by Christopher Barnes
Flush. This sombre-dark dot
A givenness into lustre.
A going back from audibility
Garbling the “I” squelch
That cells bob to.
The brunt’s a vein
Aggravating a pulse.
Slops, din to amorphous ears,
Mouse gauze from a spotty dish.
Or as afterthought a bat
Squeezed into an egg.
How does it sound?
In dream-vapour it plops –
A plunger would not induce this clamour
Underneath deep sea dead-weight.