Ultrasound
You are curled up and potential
like a Firebelly Toad beneath
a root covered in moist morning
leaves, waiting to leap to life.
Made visible, you wave little
limbs as if a bright light disturbs
your new sleep. We are in well-lit
waiting rooms or sprawled on metal
tables with quirky British doctors
and fancy beeping machines to see
inside of us, to see you. We are
laughing and you are naïve to the
world, to joy or discontent while
you tuck away in fresh flesh and
grow without pause. Outside the
office door, sunlight warms my face.
Tags: baby, doctor, motherhood, parenting, poems, poetry, pregnancy, ultrasound
Pregnancy Poetry | admin March 22, 2009
