Foetal Curl! Poem by Leslie Xavier

The wake up call,
from age-old morning tweets.
Yes, the chirp choir,
not the bird-brains,
in wifi networks.
Earth's mother here, still!

But I ain't ready
to begin my day.
The soft cushions
and December chill,
keep me home, near her;
my mom; she's still in bed.

A good morning gets better,
as twenty nine years of poison
by corrupt electromagnetism,
becomes null and void,
under her grace,
as I snuggle into the foetal curl.

Her perfume from the heavens,
a mix of manna and love.
The lullaby all so familiar,
beat from the heart of gold.
Safe and sound I doze,
back to the womb, this morning.

(by my mother's side)