a poet to her son

(https://www.pinterest.com/maternitique/the-maternal-muse/) (https://www.pinterest.com/maternitique/the-maternal-muse/)

the holy thrumming of the fan

in our bedroom is chanting your

lullaby in protective undertones.

 

I am cozy, staring into the poised

bassinet that will hold you just less

than cocooned to me in ten short weeks.

I practice knowing the smell of you,

I stay up later than I’m barely able just

to shake hands with the exhaustion

we’ll happily lend a room to.

 

and you – you are practicing self defense

beneath my flesh; to you, the only world there is.

I could make tiny wishes that you’d some day

tell me what my heartbeat sounds like from the inside:

glass-smooth jazz, a jagged pop beat?

 

I like to imagine my writer’s heart

beats like the honey of a romance novel,

appreciating with intensity every soft thump of life.

 

I question that you’ll read my work

(hold it high as Hamlet held…

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a mothers tears

Things I worry about randomly:

– why I can’t have children

Most days I dream about holding my own children. I have had a miscarriage and a death of another 3 days after her birth. My children were created in love but their mothers womb wasn’t strong enough. I couldn’t protect you the way a mother should. My womb is what killed you. Forced you out into the cold world before you were ready. Your last kick in my womb before you were born was the last peaceful bond we had. After was nothing but worrying for me. So little but so strong. It was like you were being strong just long enough for me to get myself together. As if you knew your time was short. It’s been 13wks since your passing and not once have I forgotten your face. Mommy is so sorry and wishes I could hold you one more time. I love you baby girl

Mommy xoxoxo