They have asked me to high tea,
To feast on plots and emotion and showing,
To join a company of midwives.
Though each pregnant with muse,
They’re helping one other’s labour
Of wants and obstacles and fitting resolutions.
We talk at length about unfinished threads
And getting published.
They croon while this mother-to-be moans
The worst of his fears.
I have been reborn in Wellington,
And taken into her bosom
That I too may give life.