Nesting
My body suddenly keeps reminding me
I don’t have any babies,
even though I’m well aware
of my free range, child free choices
and mainly without the pangs of regret
I was assured would catch up to me.
My body never did right by me
in the reproductive department no ways.
Blood came early, in the night,
and by morning Mommy and Mamaw
made known I was a grown woman
way back in fourth grade.
It’s strange to think about a middle schooler
makin’ all them eggs
like the ones my friends done froze.
My mind was made up a long time ago
I’d never spend time on a nest
while the whole farm goes up in flames.
3 thoughts on "Nesting"
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A lament is not here…
Like the way you spell it out and include Mommy and Mamaw.
Different times. I feel this, myself