Wednesday, April 10, 2013

What sings my hips

My hips ache with song. 

I push space into those joints

wanting to ease the pain, but still, they creak--

they mouthe lullabies. Or should I say, she--

the baby I never--is crying: a ghost

lodged in my very center. And my hips, 

made to carry this babe's weight, 

ache from the years of waiting, 

and do what all good cradles

do: rock the child to sleep, 

as she's hushed with this song. 

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