of crossings and dwellings

6 August, 2012


So this is me writing: crossing maiden, mother, crone, all 9 months pregnant and huge belly, enormous body, alien and yet so familiar unfamiliar heads turn on the street and say to themselves, oh, yes, she is great with child, she’s probably going to have that baby any day now.
I can’t cross my legs, can’t wear pants and can’t cross over the liminal space until who knows when- I must wait on a bodies own rhythm (which body? which rhythm?), so unnaturally uncomfortable, so unnormal and so normal it is the beginning of the very nature of nature. Every twinge and weirdness is just the globe at my center, aching, waiting, normal. Yet at any moment any number of things can go wrong, can go heigh-wire, but no reason to worry, no reason to dwell. There’s just me, and him, and us, separate and tied, normal, natural, uncomfortable, waiting.


One Response to “of crossings and dwellings”

  1. smoothpebble Says:

    the picture – your words – perfectly ripe (pun intended) and descriptive!

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