Doctor In Spite Of Himself

Pen in hand
I am the doctor
Standing in the delivery room

Ever so gently taking the head of
The emerging poem
Not quite sure what I will see

As this new being
Takes form
And marveling at the strength of

The brow
The eye, the nose, the swell of the lip
A word in the breath

The finger and toe of each
Impossible sentence
Making a miracle of the

Expectant world.

(Previously published in Words-Myth, Issue #6, Spring 2007)

by Laurence Overmire

Comments (1)

Well-delivered, Doc! I hope it was an easy pregnancy?