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The sonogram technician leads us to a darkened room,
Your mother sits herself upon the throne,
And specialized machinery shines sound waves through her womb
To dive into the deep and dark unknown.

We’ve heard your muffled heartbeat, she might have felt you move,
But you’ve been buried deep inside so long.
We’ve got compelling evidence, but now we need the proof;
What if we were crazy, we were wrong?

So we train our eyes upon that grainy view.
We wait for you to make your big debut.

And there’s your spine -
And I am yours, my child, and you are mine.
And there’s your brain -
And in this world of suffering and pain,
And there’s your arm -
I will shelter you from any harm,
And there’s your hand -
I promise for as long as I can.

And there’s your heart,
And here’s my heart.
And there’s your heart,
And here’s my heart.

And on that screen, from that cold robotic crescent,
There shines a light no shade could ever lessen,
And it’s always present,
And it’s luminescent,
And it’s incandescent.
And it’s incandescent.


from THE BOTTLENECK and other stories, released April 18, 2017




Micah Sommersmith Wisconsin

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