I have failed to root each time — nothing is home But for 41 weeks, I was hers, and she is now mine. Filleted on a platter of surgical steel With crinklings of stark white sheets garnish disguised as comfort harsh, sterile cotton temporarily disemboweled anesthesia flowing the highways of my flesh doctors and nurses come to and fro opening the pomegranate cavern so that my caged bird can sing and breathe life Breathe. noun. 1. the air with which we take in or expel from the lungs like a blown out tire. 2. what we hold when life becomes too erratic and anxiety grips our soul. 3. the action one takes when s/he is about to experience a miracle. The cardiac monitor, cold and white red beams rise and fall on a lackluster screen beeps the voice an aria Lorelai’s love song tachycardic no more a canzonetta sull’ aria My village My warriors My dulas My medicine medicine men The iambs of the heart the ebb and flow tempo of an amniotic sea a harmonious rhythm like a banyan tree two souls tethered roots entwined
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