Postpartum 1

People expect you to have a baby

Move on with your life

As if a soul didn't grow

Inside of you

Connected to you

Only to be ripped out

And handed back

Sticky with the fluids

That once held the

Tiny fragile bones

Wrapped in muscles and flesh

The finest, softest hair covering

Pale cheeks and smooth forehead

They treat you carefully

For a while

Until they decide it's time

To go back to work

Get that body back

To the way it was

But how can I go back?

When the scar across my belly

Goes through layer after layer

Of organ, tissue, muscles, fat

It aches and tightens 

Once a month 

It feels as if it wishes 

To tear open

To engulf once more

The tiny fragile bones

Wrapped in flesh and muscle

Fine hair and smooth forehead

Pressed against the belly

That created life