Today’s Poem : When I Am With Child

When I Am With Child

When I am with child,
there’s a chance I’ll suckle icicles,
binge on beach combed glass,
chew the ends of my hair.

My uterus will wax from
the size of a snowball to a pumpkin.

The egg my child will form from
will be the same size as what sits
in a rabbit’s or a whale’s body
at the beginning.

I may lactate
if I hear the rattling sound
of a baby crying.

By the 20th week
my body will be warm
with 50% more blood
than before conception.

My heart will swell
to accommodate
the increase.

I will not be burned at the stake
if I ask for pain relief.

I will not be told
I need to feel the pain
for Eve’s actions
in the Garden of Eden.

When I deliver,
my pelvic bone will part
in the middle
and the cartilage
will never really go back together.

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