Poetry Archive

The (Un)wanted 

<span>Photo by <a href="https://unsplash.com/@bananablackcat?utm_source=unsplash&utm_medium=referral&utm_content=creditCopyText">Svetlana Gumerova</a> on <a href="https://unsplash.com/s/photos/abandoned-house?utm_source=unsplash&utm_medium=referral&utm_content=creditCopyText">Unsplash</a></span>


The (Un)wanted  

                Wanted baby, 
                have you met unwanted baby?
                In the valley of my ribs,
                did you see the unmarked grave?
                What do scars look like inside—
                purple keloids bulged out
                in the shape of swollen lips?
                Do they scream, whisper, bleed out
                the music of my heartbeat?
                Healing is slower inside, in utero 
                a minute equals lifetimes.
                Forgive my skeletons. They don't clean up
                for company. Don't speak to them.
                I thought no one would find my mistakes
                buried so deep inside but then you arrived.
                Wanted baby, forgive the high risk of my body.

                                                                 Unwanted baby,
                                          Are you waiting to latch onto a soul?
                            Make your way out the birth canal a forever shadow.
                              Waiting for the portal to reopen—a second chance
                                    at something, when I’m not 18 with nothing. 

                Wanted baby,
                Will you know? Will you fear me,
                hate me when you’re born?

Do I feed it
with the same candle I light for grandmother?
This is uncharted lineage out of order.
There aren’t any scrolls on the ethos of the unborn/ 
the unwanted—I can’t consult the elders 
there isn’t ritual for this. 

               Still, I wouldn’t change a thing—
               it’s my second chance at something 
               now that I’m not 18 with nothing.

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Filed under: Poetry Archive


Anacaona Rocio Milagro is a poet born, raised, and still living in New York City, Washington Heights. She is the mother of Nirvana Sky and Zion. Her father is from the Dominican Republic and her mother is from St. Thomas, The Virgin Islands. Daughter of Oshun but adopted by Yemaya. She earned an MFA in Poetry at NYU’s Low Residency program in Paris and an MPH at Columbia University. She earned a BA in Social Anthropology and Journalism/Creative Writing with a minor in Art from Baruch College. Her poems have been published in The BreakBeat Poets Anthology, Narrative Magazine, and LittHub, to name a few.