Means Of Production

My handful of cells


Not yet a you,
Yet you are –
A cell structure,
The meeting point.
The wriggling climactic climb.

The reason,
For self-discipline.
The topic of terror,
- and occasional joy -
and not drinking far too much wine.

A picture of red
Swimming frenziedly,
Naked and skimmed.
Beginning to grow
In limby spurts and pushes.

Far easier,
Less fraught -
As Moses, floating,
Perhaps would attest,
To be found in a basket of rushes.