Sunday, August 28, 2011

The Presence of Leila

The night of the day your

conception is announced

to us, I dream—no, I hear

your intended gender told

to me by whomever does

the speaking in our sleep.

That voice tells me a girl has

already started her journey,

and unlocks a longing in me

I have not yet known.

This peanut, this peach, this

grapefruit grows, not only in her

mother’s womb, but in a space

saved in my barrenness, like

ancient Sarah—just in case,

just in case, just in case.

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