Brainchild I

Hind

Let us celebrate the cerebellum

In a ballade melodious as a lullaby

And interlock our limbs until we come

To accept fate or infertility.

Let the medulla make this child the way

It makes the lungs inflate to help us breathe

In unison: involuntarily.

Maybe then we will conceive.

Let us key the lobes of equilibrium And sing about umbilicals, accompany The chamber music of the cranium. Or let the pons compose a symphony Sans a conductor, so we may occupy The seats of all-being and make-believe, Left and right. If we exalt the nuclei, Maybe then we will conceive.

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