April 30

April is cloudy days,

Cold rain seeping into shoes that are not waterproof

Not a cloud in the sky, bright sun baking my bare arms should have been a sign

How far along are you? 

32 weeks

Only two more months until I can have my body back

This will be cold, he says

A squirt of jelly 

Grey swimming images

Is that a hand? 

No, a foot.  

Silence.

I breathe into the line moving across the monitor

Nothing, and no one

A ghost made flesh that so insistently tapped upon my ribcage

Later

Eyes have dropped all the tears they can shed

Is there anything we can do for you?
Can you make my son not dead? 
No

 Go away. 

I could not look at his face

Could not memorize the features

And yet they’ve left and indelible impression 

Seven years later

It should hurt less

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