Poem Day 8

Poem Day 8

Today I think
Of the pregnant woman’s belly
Like a bag of swag
In a white T shirt
And her swollen face
She’s relaxed
Letting go
Because she might fart
Any second
And her heart
Is harrowed with puke

She leans back in her chair
Like a boss
But there’s that belly big
Rising like a moan
Above the desk
That belly full of baby

Mammaries swell
And vein the breast
And pucker nipples
Her hair grows thick
Her asshole pricked
With hemorrhoids

She waddles by on four-by-fours
Pissing every time she coughs
Or laughs or bounces
On a trampoline

But how soft and wet
The vagina is
As it leaks beneath
The bulging belly
The swelling cup of jelly

I’ve caught 5 baby bodies
Touched 5 hot placentas
Cut 5 pulsing umbilical cords
And suckled side by side
All 5 times

The first was fraught with guilt
Done in the dark, half asleep
And the last
How desperate I was
For her not to desiccate