Expected

Someone is coming soon. She's pressing

toward arrival and I'm heavy with waiting,

my body slowed, thinking of her. All I have 

is an echo of her form, small impacts of limbs

that kick me awake these nights. 

I lie restless, toss out curled-up names,

wonder if there's any she will catch and keep

when she unfolds into the world. 

I'm losing the need for words, 

the power to find them. Soon all I will know 

is her intelligence of flesh and bone

and wailing, sucking mouth. We'll speak 

through skin touching skin: lips, hands,

my full, aching breasts.