She is exhausted all the time,
and every minute of nursing and burping,
another minute of freedom she never knew
         — Gone.

Like smoke that rises from the coals
and fills every inch, every ion,
clothing every molecule of oxygen in its cloak
until breathing is impossible.

She was chosen, this mother-child,
She chose, this child-mother.
Breathing deep in the face of God,
she was free to decide
although it had already been decided.

That single moment loops in time
like yarn endlessly knit over and through. 
Time skips like a record,
popping and scratching
          — Say yes. Say yes.

She gives all of herself in gulping mouthfuls.
How the child suckles, her child,
born to be given up one day
without a place deep enough to grieve,
without a stone to lie flowers.

And that single moment skips like a record,
popping and scratching
          — Say yes. Say yes.

Attachment.png