Poetry / Momma

Cocoon your body into the quilt

That keeps the stifling humidity at bay

It will warm the emptiness of your heart

As you try to fill yourself up with tears

To replace the baby taken from your womb

Let me place my hands on your face

In child-like wonderment

Tasting the salt of you tears on my fingertips

Amazed that grown-ups can produce tears

This will be the first time I ever saw you cry

It won’t be the last