Regarding University

On a mattress, two spines face each other at night,

lumbar stiff as the springs that hold them.

Liquid pebbles seep through our engorged ceiling,

and there is a monotonous plop against our dishes,

droning on about our home’s holes and inadequacies.

Deciding to work, we huddle beneath a lamp

that reminds us of natural sunlight, calloused fingers

still clutching our pens.

Yet, I think of our luck.

Like the pickled fetus in our laboratories, we remain dull

and unborn.

by Sarah Watson

Words In Motion 2014