I could marvel at my belly,

its squishiness,

the way I would have marveled at your toes

 

their impossible smallness.

 

I could marvel

at the way I can lie on my back now,

pull my knees up to my chest—

How I can see the freckle on my lower abdomen for

the first time since

my belly swelled with life—

 

Maybe you would have had a freckle, too,

that grows with you

the way my niece’s does,

a size bigger for each pair of shoes

she outgrows.

 

But I do not marvel.

 

I smooth my hands over my body

wanting to nurture you

wanting to hold you

and I cry

 

© Burning Eye

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