Good Morning Juno*!

The sun is up,

Girls are busying queuing to take a bath,

Inside the laundry room my pants hang damp

The alley floor scatters food left-over-

Another icky food fiesta for hungry cats,

The surroundings is the same, even if they

Have grown green leaves and let go of

Withered petals, even though their branches

Spread-out, even though they give life to us-

Still their existence remains the same.

The mineral water bottle is empty,

The orange and blue tumblers

Stand proudly even they are ¾ filled with water,

Even though they appear like thirsty

Penises.

The mineral water bottle is a womb-

A hallow room of a baby.

The lid is open,

Making it vulnerable to objects that are

willing to penetrate.

These trains of thoughts are complete-

Giving birth to an inanimate objects,

Producing a poem,

Producing a baby out of words.

My poem is complete-

After 9 minutes of thinking,

9 minutes of arguing with my mind-

I have produced a baby-

My baby which I will call a poem.

*The idea is an allusion to the movie Juno