Sack Of Folded Skin My Body—

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.

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