No Place Like Womb
by William Morgan
I don’t want to be born.
I have been resisting. I’m late. My Mother is a news junkie. All I hear is gunfire, bombs, screams, despair. The world is full of war, pestilence, horror. Why would I want to leave this place that is warm, cozy, full of love? Sometimes, I feel woozy when Mother sneaks a drink, but, apart from that, it is wonderful here. But, I know I will have to leave.
But, I don’t want to.
My hands are tiny, limited, but, they do the job as I slowly wrap the umbilical cord around my neck.