In Vitro Son
Amid her bones the child prepares to be
a spark of the both combined into one
past unmade, unformed, for where is the need
in fertile node where he becomes their son
No thought is thought, alas no deed this seed
he floats like light on a blue bubble tongue
growing and gaining, the moment to heed
movement of birth, spoken promise his own
Waiting, his two spent days with vivid dreams
of fetal face and denser decisions
marking time til choosing their paint
pink or green, blue or cool aquamarine—
when a noise arose to foul the visions
and break the heart of each and every saint
©2012 Judy H. Eurey
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