Musical Notes: Motherhood

Anacrusis 
 
Let him touch you 
that one night you want to cocoon into yourself;  
take him in 
miss the marker  
that measures the month’s progression. 
 
The Chorus—888 
 
Your body curves 
a figure 8, 
loops outward to enfold another, 
three times 
rounds, expands, treble-clefs. 
 
In between the first and last note of this song: 
your womb 
a tomb 
             crescendo  
                                         decrescendo  
                                                                 silence. 
Mourn what never could be. 
Chant that lament for years. 
 
Coda 
 
Wake up in the hospital, 
gutted; 
no more music 
from that venue 
 
all those years 
spent thinking  
that you should be this or that— 
whatever you are not—  
did you miss the melody?