Premature

the day i turn
36 weeks pregnant

I watch a young child
with drowning eyes
trembling lips

still soft with baby fat
she can't be older
than my 4 year old daughter

stroke her murdered mother's
yellowing immobile face

the same way mine
strokes my cheeks as
she's falling asleep

"she was preparing food for
her children when
she was shot in the neck"
the caption says

shot by who?

a nearby woman draws the
child close, an embrace
that will never end

but not long enough to
unravel the white shroud
cocooning her mother's body

if we peer closely
through our godforsaken screens
we can just make out
her 7 months pregnant belly

a baby silenced before
she took her first breath
as mine stubbornly
blessedly continues
to pummel
my broken insides

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Fight Like A Mother: A Celebration of Resistance and Resilience.
A Mother’s Day Poetry Collection