Fetus in Fetu
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They began, two delicate orbs adrift
in an amniotic galaxy,
twin stars who silently collide,
one engorging the other,
the way Kronos swallowed his young,
the smaller brother, in the belly of the larger,
A Jonah child whose song will never be sung,
the whale’s mouth, permanently sealed.
He will grow more slowly, sinking inward,
half of him never revealed,
as if God stopped knitting.
While the larger son rises, floating toward the light,
a slice of horizon at the end of darkness.
The smaller one, tucked tight inside of him,
glowing like an unfinished dream,
legs and arms in motion that seem to move
of their own will, but no upper body.
Still this being thrives without hearing, without seeing,
strives to live his hidden half life deep inside darkness,
the pulsations of his umbilical,
breathing the sweet, sanguine air,
buried in his brother, become his wife, become his mother.
He lies there, the mystery of unbeing.
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P.C. Scheponik is lifelong poet who lives by the sea with his wife, Shirley, and their shizon, Bella. His writing celebrates nature, the human condition, and the metaphysical mysteries of life. He has published six collections of poems: His work has appeared in numerous literary journals.
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North of Oxford 