Lying on my side,
thirty-eight weeks now
Watching the curved horizon of
globe-belly,
undulating, swelling and stretching
Outlining then obscuring your perfect meridians
Like tiny ocean waves carrying us both home
Pale skin stretched taut,
With creeks and rivers of bluish-purple blood meal,
Careening new yet ancient pathways in subterranean territories
Rivers of life
Floating us back and forth to one another
within and between where I end, and you begin
Where you began and “I” ended
My womb a cosmic cauldron,
filled with stardust soup
A recipe made billions of times before
Which shall never again be exactly repeated
So dance wildly and rest well now,
Western wind child,
Grow stronger each day
Until we finally touch on dry land
Beneath my skin,
Yet another world away,
I wait for you and dream

Lindsay London, RN