Once, this skin held your heartbeat
pulsing one bright dot on a screen
amplified, until the room vibrated.
This skin month after month grew you —
my body a by-stander. Your elbows and knees
dug under my ribs, my weighted uterus.
In the carrying I was perfect— that fluttering,
that friction. This body I thought I knew—inhabited
without thought —I knew nothing. I carried a firestorm.
Your head crowned—burning skin, a comet.
Sack Of Folded Skin My Body—
Eve F.W. Linn received her M.F.A. in Poetry from Lesley University. Her first chapbook, Model Home,(2019) is available from River Glass Books. Her poems have also appeared in journals including Cider Press Review, Crosswinds Poetry Journal, Lily Poetry Review and Nixe’s Mate. She loves cats, strong coffee, and thunderstorms.