Empty Bowl
it used to be a given
I’d say “when we
have kids,” dream
up their names,
and picture the blend
of our faces in theirs
I could feel their weight
in my belly, the tug of their
suckling at my breasts
so much full warmth
now I am adjusting
I say if almost
every time,
I’m getting better
at not becoming
bitter while
protecting
myself from
too much hope
I was never
this aware of
how similar
my pelvis is
to an empty
bowl
did you know
it gets harder
for phantom babies
to haunt you if
you can’t imagine
their faces and
you forget their
names