Oh, how I loved you…

by Sherine Elise Gilmour

I loved the way you made me weak, asleep
by 8 pm. Then the way you’d wake me, dry heaving.
The gas you gave me, bad as toxic fumes
that sent Nick to the other room,
laughing. At the grocery, I picked the apple
with the reddest cheeks. Someday I would pack you lunches.
I wanted to paint your room with songbirds, gulls,
string paper airplanes from the ceiling in bunches.
You made me determined. Oh, love! Heavy bells of my breasts.
Every object I touched became a touch closer to you,
so that our home became layers of touches.
The first time the midwife said,
"Come in so we can check, right away,"
your heart clapped loudly, defiantly Yes-yes-yes!

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