A palindrome: 194 pounds

I weigh as much as 

a thick, pot-bellied pig 

I look like 

a bloated pear, a spinning top

I seize the first seat on the bus 

without shame

I take up space now

I no longer ask, Will I die? but rather 

Which parts?

Will any of my pre-maternal identity survive?

Mary, had Joseph’s hand to hold,

I’m still fumbling in the dark looking for

Jesus

I could have sworn I left Him right here 

on the nightstand

there’s nothing empowering about this 

women have been carrying babies 

without complaint

giving birth

unheard, unseen, unpublished

since the beginning of time

in all the quiet overlooked suffering

survive

feed us

keep us alive

I learn to take care of us

I shake my head at the irony

in a state of total co-dependence

you have shown me how to be 

sovereign

in this small life I’ve built for us