Tick Tock

Tick Tock

I hear my

Biological clock

Ticking away

The eggs I have

In short supply.

“Yuh nuh have

A child, yet?”

He looks at me

Like fertile soil

In which to

Plant his seed.

I look at him

As though he is

Trying to plant

A weed in my

Well tended garden.

“Step along,

Young boy,”

“Don't you have

Two, Five, Eight

Kids, brother man?”

“Ew,” are thoughts

That prod the back

Of my tongue, begging

To spring board off

The tip and dive

Into their ear

To swim in the

Gray matter

They call a brain.

And still the clock

Ticks....

Tick Tock

Tick Tock.

Fuck the clock.

Toss it into one

Of those trash disposals,

Let it be reduced

To bits and pieces,

Freeing me of

This prison.

This prison of

Others' expectations

Due to the fact

That I am a woman,

And as such, I must

Breed!

Breed?

Breed?!?

Alas, my entire

Existence, in a

Blink of an eye,

Has been reduced to

A walking womb.

I want to....

Breathe, the inhale,

Exhale kind,

Don't get it twisted.

Then again, I could just

Let time slip away,

Let the clock run out,

Ignore the pity

In people's eyes,

The venom in the

Eyes of overtaxed

Parents, the laments

Of family and strangers

For not letting my genes

Live beyond my body.

Extracting this clock

From my craw and

Breathe. Inhale. Exhale.

Breathe.

Then...

Then I would see a little one,

Be it a floppy headed babe

Or a gangly seven year old

Who has just begun to reason,

And....

And I touch my hand

To my stomach.

And I imagine a

Little me with an

Extra bit of spice.

And...

And I think,

Just maybe,

Just maybe

I could be

Someone's mommy.

Tick Tock

Tick Tock

Tick

Tock.

image credit: Ales Krivec