Writing from the stemistry lab
Confessions of an embryo scientist
by Stevie Ronnie
Some nights, when the clones
have hung their lab coats
and climbed into their particular cars
I stay janitor-late in my thin skirt
and woollen tights. I flick the lock
then heave the lid of the freezer.
I remove the tubes from their racks,
line the casket with a velvet drape.
My nape hairs stiffen.
My shoulders glow like blue flames.
Hitching each leg carefully,
I climb inside and lower
myself with my arms to lie
with my hands doved to my chest.
Each cloud of breath fixes
me inside this cool box,
turned and on.
Lately I’ve taken to Freezerland
I stroll around the chilled aisles
stroking pizzas and ready meals
for what it does to my fingers.