The sixth poem from my poetry collection Conception.

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Insected

I never liked bugs much
– until now.
From the moment I caught you,
curled up in a cocoon on the scan,
insection has crawled over me.
I watched with awe
as you whooshed from the womb,
wrapped in your white larva vernix.
Later, I wondered at the warmth
of your soft hair-covered skin,
as you wriggled
like a caterpillar on my shoulder,
then put your hands
together in the air,
fluttering your fingers
like a butterfly in flight.