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Wrapped [poetry]

August 19, 2018

A package arrived in the mail today

dated December 31, 2011—

back when I was still pregnant

with colorful pictures of smiling infants

taped across the box’s surface

with my breath held and my chest pressing against my skeleton,

I grab a knife and cut along the box’s ridges—

breaking in half the largest picture

of a perfectly formed wide eyed infant.

with tears streaming down my face,

I remove a small onesie and lay it gently across the surface

of my empty womb

and watch the ink smear across the card that reads, “To Mama and Baby,”

and grasp a white blanket of feather softness

that should have held my child, come September.

Instead I wrap it around my shivering body and rock myself

in still emptiness

as I carry the weight

of losing the only thing I have ever wanted. 

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