it left•was gone•like words• rolled off of tongues because what else was there to say
•our son, my fingers seemed to say as they shook•there is no dirt to sprinkle
unnatural deaths leave us to grasp air and empty spaces
nothing holding nothing•just the blanket I knitted for
you, little one• it’s blue and soft• created from the emotion in which you were made- love
your lips were blue, your body soft
the doctor said we can make
another one• that there is no reason why we can’t have
another one and everything appears to be in working order…
just fine• My friends and the rest of your family say I’m still
young• that there is plenty of time to have more• they don’t
know I just wanted you… a lifetime of you.
and no, I can’t make another one.
it’s all become stunted inside me, like your growth.
by Kimberley Gladney©