Exposed: my belly. Swollen, white,
marked with winding lines.
Within: a bumping child, bound
and fed by blood and waters,
liquid prison, tissue home.
I watch his blurry pulsing heart,
see the shape of arms and hips,
the thin clenched hands,
the wound-up cord.
We both await release: the pain
and freedom of an empty womb.
His freedom binds me more,
a bond I chose, one I embraced
with gentle fear. We both
will cry when we’re set free.
We both must learn to breathe.
Emily graduated from BYU in Comparative Literature and now lives in Lindon, Utah, with her three kids and husband. She has spent much of this past year nursing a new baby while reading the Wall Street Journal.
