there is a baby in my blood. and what am i to do. my neck barely carries my head. and i don’t have enough to hold a baby in. what will become of my small name. my little laughter will they be filled with milk. and this water mountain (in my waist.) my sister says i must say goodbye to my old voice. (even though it is still hot from my mothers’ pushing.) she says i must untie my tears from my eyes only at night. she says ‘lua, you will smell like a woman now.’ and i am lost in the way the sky is falling through her hands as she tells me this. there is a baby in my blood. where will i live.
