My head lying in your lap,
listening to your tummy talk.
Can I cradle the
idea just
a little longer—
while it’s still
kissing belly buttons and
cute little cramps in the
small of your back that
my fingers softly knead?
You crinkle your nose
as if to say sympathy
pains don’t sweep you off
your swollen ankles.
Come along, darling, we’re
already late as is.
Missed carriages,
leave us stuck
waiting
for the bus.
The throes of labor
make you push and
push, and in the
chilling breath of life,
a tiny heart beats still.
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