AMNION
Not yet
were we
boys.
Where
boys
would be—
—unthinking—
Yoked.
Luminous and selfish-
The scarce Delights:
bluefeather blood
in the factory of Oxygen.
It was not
shareable—and—
we shared.
Which seemed
only—necessary.
Ditto—
the nourishment.
Ditto
the kleig lights
into which
we
dropped.
© 2006 Michael Snediker
's poems have appeared in such journals as Pleiades, Black Warrior Review, crazyhorse, and Court Green. His non-fiction pieces have appeared or are forthcoming in Modernism/Modernity, The Henry James Review, and Postmodern Culture. He is the Fall 2006 James Merrill Writer-in-Residence.
