The Last Trimester
This is supposed to be the easy one
Morning sickness over and done
The radiant glow of impending
Motherhood should be settling
Upon her features like a soft mantle
There is little that can go wrong now
Or at least, that is the common
Wisdom – the old wives’ tales
But science will out and the doctor
Has made it clear, the is the last time
If she doesn’t carry this one to term
They are finished trying – it will be
Done, their baby-making efforts over
She tries to stay calm, holds her hands
Over the treasure inside her, whispers
Encouragement to the unborn child
Tells it to stay safe, to keep growing
Moving, tumbling – in that sac she
Has inside her – wishes she could pray
It into being; tells it over and over
How loved it is already and that it
Must live, must live, must, must, must
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