When they slid out 

Of Mother – a double oddity 

“We”

She cleaned them over

Of green and pink slime, 

Needles of dried grass,

Amniotic sac

Their spines that entwined 

Split off into two minds 

Heaved into life 

Squinted at Mother’s eyes 

❧

And when they collapsed 

Trembled sticky 

Til they stopped

Men took them to London 

In brown paper

Boxed them up 

❧

She and her are enclosed 

Behind a glass case 

As Crown Jewels 

Four Amber eyes 

Hardened to life 

In imitation meadows 

Gazing at neighbours 

Of jackalope

Winged horse  

Dodo bones 

Their curled white fur 

like portrait cherubs’ oiled

Sunlight’s a halo on their alien mould 

❧

A bell and a bow tied ‘round their neck like dolls 

Pressed together like flowers 

In bible page folds

Grass is plastic 

Light is bleaching

Dust is damning

Stains are dried in  

But their hollow stomach 

Swells to life 

Whenever a child’s eyes widen

Photo by Annie Spratt on Unsplash