Maternity
We grow slower
these heavy days
in chairs that creak louder now.
My skin stretches
around your fetal hiccoughs,
my hand touches your jutting foot,
my man smiles at your roundness.
Rocking in dreams,
you turn in slumber
and for you
the sun shines red through my blood,
for you we pray the guardian spirits
closer to home,
for you angels of music
play Beethoven,
and you hear it
as if from far away
under the sea.