Email from Ex-husband

I need a moment to compose myself.
My toes land on bookshelf,
ears next to the dresser,

breath and belly separate,
fingers scatter.
Moving back.
         Starting a family.

My neglected womb
wanders the ceiling.
Old tears slip
between the beams.

Inhale. Limbs and organs
make space. Exhale.
Courage gathers
and I reunite.

My heart hovers above the bed.
My arms ask if they can hold the little one.