Brain womb
I don't know the lover.
Asleep and dreaming,
My brain is a uterus
Churning, conceiving.
Word-images floating
In alphabet, pictures,
Syntax, sounds, behind
Closed lids. i worry no
Notebook at hand, all
May be lost, stillborn.
Slow coming to form,
Little beats of meaning
Hearten the sleep, and
Filling me with hope.
Yes, a poem's delivery,
Natural, timely, mature,
Scheduled later when i wake,
But only if i recall it all.
Sanjib Basu 