Maternity We grow slower these heavy days in chairs that creak louder now. My skin stretches around your fetal hiccoughs, my hand touches your jutting foot, my man smiles at your roundness. Rocking in dreams, you turn in slumber and for you the sun shines red through my blood, for you we pray the guardian spirits closer to home, for you angels of music play Beethoven, and you hear it as if from far away under the sea. |