the fetus
this is about something ancient, intimate, and vulnerable that has the power to shape, harden, freeze, silence, and return me.
The fetus unfurls its body from the small black stone it folded itself around.
It stretches, reaching its arms back, back back, fingers branching into my shoulders, my neck, my skull.
Its legs go down, down down, toes curling into my stomach, my legs, my thighs, sinking into my ankles.
I feel my body turn leaden. My blood vitrified.
A gray cast covers my eyes and the world around me drifts away.
My lips too heavy to part. My voice suspended in the concrete of my throat.
I can’t be mad at it It’s just a baby An ancient thing born and reborn inside of me.
Gone and back again. Gone and back.