Poetry of Robert Fisher
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Their first house was my womb,
Where everyday I heard them kicking,
The way dogs chase rabbits in their dreams.
Only boys begin exploring
While yet unformed.
They took up residence in me
For nearly a year.
What I ate became their muscles, teeth, bones.
Their patience at an end,
They were expelled into a cold, bright world,
Noisy and dry, but there was no turning back.
What I ate became my milk,
And they became strong.
In China I would have even turned
My placenta into a soup to fortify me
And them.
That was a lifetime ago —but when you were in Laos,
In a temple, cross-legged, silent,
I heard the raindrops drip from the palm leaves.

May 14th, 2017