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Pregnant woman standing outside against a sunset.

Three Poems

Immaculate Conception The day my mother confessed  She had conceived me though IUI, Guilt swallowed her eyes.  Her voice grew quiet And shame took over her body. She had betrayed God  For a baby. Wanted something  So natural,  Motherhood, And obtained it artificially.  Throughout my life,  She repeatedly told me I was special.  I never quite understood why  Until that day.    Feliz día de las madres I think about the first interactions  Between my mother and I. She’s the first person  And place  I called home. The vibrations traveling  From her mouth to her belly— Yo sentí el español antes  De oírlo, hablarlo, leerlo, ni escribirlo. She would tell me  You ate whatever I ate In an attempt to argue I should like the foods she eats. I can’t deny I adore chiles rellenos But I also can’t digest garlic or onions. I inherited taste and malaise.  I look down to my belly button, It once was connected to my mother. And her belly button was once connected to her mother,  And my grandma’s …