january 24th, 2010

her voice sounded heavy to her, filled

with the unnamed emotion

everyone had told her to expect. except

she hadn't. she'd rolled

her eyes at the shiny pamphlets and blog posts

in flowery font, because that couldn't be her,

her of the steely eyes and bird's nose, her

who'd only felt a mother's cold touch

and upturned brows. how

could it be any different?

but then here she was, cradling

a tiny head that was smeared with blood, her blood

their blood,

biting her lip and amazed by the tears

because it could be different, it could smell

of milk and flowers and something all new,

the smell of someone she'd never met

but knew like herself. it could be different.

she held

the girl to her chest until they had to take her away

for the night,

get your sleep, they told her, you'll see her

in the morning, but morning was far away.

she had so much she wanted to do, wanted to teach

her new creation, this girl

who would never have to realize

that it could be different.

and if i could have seen

anything real through my filmy, just-opened eyes

i'm sure her hospital gown would've looked to me

fit for a ball.