Competition Year: 2013
Votes (1) | Comments (0)
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I’ve sieved you, sparged you, auto-claved you,
Washed and squashed then life I gave you.
You are my son, if being contextual,
Though, ‘scientifically’ you’re a-sexual.
Frankenstein’s monster formed by curiosities thirst,
Everything about you was though of first.

The precise amounts of what you are,
Were weighed exactly in a jar,
Then re-weighed, twice, to be precise,
And for good measure I weighed you thrice.
If chance will let it, you’ll come of age,
And decompose in that specific way,

From which your sludge, a paper blossom,
From you my sweet, my microcosm.
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