Give me a moment,
it will come back to me,
names pressed into my life,
notes embossed
on sheet music.
I heard our heartbeats,
fast lub – dub over
slow steady maternal sounds.

It’s like breathing in deep
without exhaling,
without dropping a beat,
silence between notes,
silence that is melody,
one moment, breathing,
the next moment, still.

I cannot talk about that day,
I never could
say even a word.
No goodbyes,
only an X-ray cocoon,
a Monarch Butterfly,
wings folded
between cushions
of pink endometrial tissue.

It will come back,
a dream of
blond curls that bounce,
blue eyes like my mother’s,
and the sky,
full of wings,
lifting and drifting,
like the melody
before the stillness.