USA

azubahdenjongpa@hotmail.com 

On the Indignity of 
Unexpected Entrances

Oh the harsh reality of air!
It was cold, and they were cold.
How dare they touch me,
without Mother's flesh between us.

I was King of the womb. 
It was by bedroom,
my yacht, 
my office.

Past life bliss un-drempt,
Amniotic oceans uncharted, 
Poetic memos unfinished. 

We planned a natural birth.
My mother meditating under a tree,
and upon reaching Enlightenment,
We arrive, 
whilst her hymen breaks, 
and a star rises in the east. 

But her water broke without making an appointment.

On a bed we lay,
between Ammabompo's hot legs 
and cold hands, gripping 
the old knees and biting 
on a twig to kill 
the screams.

Under the Mountain Khantsenjuga,
upon reaching the last canal,
I arrive,
whilst her twig breaks,
and the howls of eastern dogs rise.

© All Copyright, 2000, Pintso Laurenstein.
All Rights Reserved. Printed By Permission.