Women have the censor between their legs, <br />The fiery oven of consuming warmth; <br />The womb is perihelion, to the stars, <br />Who have last word on who comes, <br />And of what each spirit may be composed. <br /> <br />Vulcan minds the burning embryos, <br />Which thicken and build like flames, <br />Body parts from a secret blood-ridden forge, <br />Growing larger quickly, like a froth of bubbling lava <br />While the umbilicus writhes, in silent ballets. <br /> <br />The heat builds till the plug is expelled, <br />With great gulags of blood and debris, <br />A baby god is born, an expert duplicate <br />Of the parents- and Mars will be put off <br />His future battles, for a fortnight of years. <br /> <br />The fetus is imploded stardust, <br />Impossible distances bound in time; <br />The raging autoclave that weights our bodies <br />With rare elements not commonly found; <br />Still, the new body holds traces of the old: <br /> <br />Courage hails from some family tree, <br />Now hidden in the thick of history.<br /><br />Patti Masterman<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/hidden-in-the-thick-of-history/
