The Brain

Little cauliflower

You are my teacher
reporter, whistleblower and guardian 
without recognition.

You were the first ally

you egged me on to split 
and never stop multiplying.

You nag in the pit of my stomach

when I forget something
stored in the coils of history.

You pull at my eyelids

when I want to escape

to nocturnal pastures.

And now when it would be easy

to drift away in bed

by the window

you remind me

that life without muscle

is hard work.

Let me cry now and then
when I wake
to fuel these legs

last limbs to grow 
before  expulsion 
from the amniotic pool.