When I find myself grieving
my inability to move
unencumbered, I remember.

He’s beautiful. You said six months?
He’s getting so big, it’s amazing.
Did I ever tell you 
that we were
expecting together?

My mouth. I was not expecting
anything. I didn’t know.
Her tears dripped like soft,
silent rain, as if not to disturb
the sunshine of the cafe.
No one stirred. No one noticed
the child who wasn’t there,
who wasn’t waving at strangers
over my shoulder.

She sipped her sweetened brew
and smiled through tears
as if she knew that the world
has no patience for labor
without gain, no patience
for stories steeped in pain.


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