What are you doing up so late, little one?
Awake among the Petri dishes
No place for children
Where is your mother? Your father?
Do you mean to tell me
These nice-looking men in lab coats
Are the only parents you know
As your filigree DNA unfolds they peer
Into this sterile womb
Strain to catch a glimpse of
Your nascent primitive streak
Unwilling to admit it is theirs
We all fear