CONFESSION OF A HIRED MOTHER
My womb is a tomb
Where painful secrets cradles
An embalmed embryo
Awaiting for resurrection.
My mind is a cannon
Loaded heavily
With bio-explosives
Awaiting for an explosion.
So, father, let me trigger
For explosions are confessions-
The ecstatic unloading
Of the loaded bio-explosives.
Father, forgive me
Forgive this surrogate mother-
The divine prostitute
Violated the sixth commandment.
Father, my womb is a brothel
A licensed Mother machine
where adultery and seduction
are scientifically sacramental.
Father, never I shared
A masculine bed
Never I spared
A single sperm or ova.
But father, forgive me
Forgive this virgin Mary-
The ousted surrogate mother
Who merchandised her child.
Oh! father, forgive me
Forgive this Tummy mummy
Forgive her fired children
Oh! father forgive me.