The belly-button could be the centre of my world;
Twinned arteries careering outwards
Pumped at a hundred and forty a minute,
Returning rich with placental nutrition
Through the tangled cord snaking round the womb
Elusive as a jellied eel wobbling
Under cover of darkness, yet longing for the light of day.
Joined to the past with the double twist of nucleic acid
That curls up with Goldilocks and the three bears -
Past, present and future, till it stops
With the moment of birth, clamped and tied,
Dried and done, leaving me gazing
Into the past with indulgent self-centredness
Of introspective history via Jerusalem and Delphi.
Until the next generation arrives to find us
Stealing their porridge, breaking their chairs
And tossing around on their beds,
So that something grumbles and crumbles within
And we learn to change our focus,
Covenanting with posterity to look beyond ourselves
To find Silicon Valley and the Expanded Universe.
August 2012
Omphalos – the centre of the world?

                                                                                                                                                                                             Phoot: Stinkie Pinkie