Poem: De-birth

I’m not part of those who will eat cakes

Baked for the memorials of children

Who died their mothers’ hands at birth

Their umbilical uncut hangs: idle noose

They rigid like a broken out stump

Find distrust in the eyes of those who stare

Wondering how this little being gave hope

Each second, each minute, each hour: 40 weeks

And in one second stole the moment away

Like they came to taunt the testaments of birth

(c) Jumoke Verissimo