Peach Beneath My Skin

Sometimes I press my fingers into the flesh beneath my belly button, to check
just in case, for symptoms of a new life.
Unlikely, yet still I monitor myself, awaiting seasick swells in morning light.

My fingers aren’t crossed for luck. But yes, I want to be safety.
I wish to be the world for someone, if only for those months.
You said I’d support you if you wanted to keep it as if it
were growing limbs already within my tissue.

It would only complicate my life. There are other lines
I need to cast first, to love you in a happier way.

I never thought how a child would mean you & I are forever combined.
You bite a crunchy white unripe peach and
I see a child’s skin and fragile skull, crushed between your teeth.


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