You build this violent light
That smells like danger might
Intrude with stranger’s words,
constructed, hardly heard.

Control is yours, while mine
Is stolen by routine
With danger stamped in red
in safety’s name

And I am laid upon an iron rising bed
Where clinical regime
crafts raised adrenaline

It seems your attitude
Invades the process,
And fails to recognise that more
begets less.

Fashion me the dark safe corners of home
Where I can hold my pain alone
And bend like the willow bough
To labour’s winding,
Now
Draw within to see
my baby leaving me.