Multiplication, Tabled
by Michael R. Burch

for the Religious Right

“Be fruitful and multiply”—
great advice, for a fruitfly!
But for women and men,
simple Simons, say, “WHEN!”

Keywords/Tags: Christianity, religion, procreation, multiplication, fruitful, multiply, overpopulation, abortion, birth, control, contraceptives, ******, pill, creationists, global, warming, climate, change, pope, Vatican

From the womb of Coronavirus,
Comes the birth of a new human with a noble cause, a new purpose, a Renewed vision, and a new mentality, one that:

Listens to cries of the people, and lift their spirits.
Sheds tears over the innocent lives claimed.

Values close family ties, friendship, and recites a wishful prayer to
Alleviate the suffering of distressed souls.

Protects the elderly, takes care of their neighbor, shares meals with the Hungry, and renders services to others, expecting nothing in return.

The birth of a new human,
Who thinks, breathes, speaks and acts with kindness ,
Who’s molded from humility,
With a mind full of reflection, and a
Soft heart encompassed with love!

Hussein Dekmak

Savage birth

A flaming child

Of fire

And light

Fills the dark

Drowns the night

The Universe is set alight

Black water, still water, cold water

An Ophelia in male form


When you came that day
White as marble, but soft as snow

I think a little part of me died



I know a little piece of me broke



36 hours of waiting, watching the clock creep


Poking and prodding, my body an open map


Who would have thought that that which had nourished you would have almost been your demise?


The human body is strong, but the human body is fragile



And so we found out that day when we got to meet our Pegasus with broken wings





Our little almost-ghost

I'll shut me down
I can't see anything left to save
We collapse and she relapses into all that she gave
An autopsy, an eternal grave:
These aren't the colours that I should see

My mother didn't birth me, she said.
'I plucked you from a tree, 
a Papaya tree',  she says.

'It rained torrents that Chait* night,
a storm raged, tearing apart 
all that came its way
our hut was blown, everything swept away
the tree shuddered, so did the fruits
I spent the night clinging to the scarred trunk
worried about our next meal, 
a wild gale, then, bent the Papaya tree 
I latched on to you while your siblings 
fell apart. Bursting seedlings over my body. 
With all my strength, I plucked you
the stem and branches bruised my hands and arms
streaks of blood trickled and covered your face
you had a tender, pale skin. 

Can you feel the scar on your forehead ? 
That's where my silver bracelet was lodged. 
You weren't ripe, not yet. 

Next morning, still trembling, I hid you 
in the warmth of the last cloth on my body, thereon
you slept in my ***** till
the first rain of Baisakh**.

Your father, she said, 
'had gone seeding the fields'.
She said, 'You are the fruit of my labour.'