Un-baptise
A stranger’s grasp
Cages your soft skin.
Dropped into the font –
That frozen womb.
Transparent and empty.
The pressure on your body,
As the image flickers over your clear vision
On the other side of that screen of water.
About to be un-born.
Time slides back, to you,
Trickled with blood,
Immersed into air
Ready to be embraced against living skin.