Bun in my arms.
Rather have one in the oven
Than my uterus.
Bun on the plate,
Now the kitchen smells like cinnamon-dough and diapers
But its alright because of her laugh.
Bun crawling and cooing, crayons everywhere
I realize I still know all the lyrics to SpongeBob’s greeting song
Bun’s been awake too long
And her cry echos until my womb wakes up
Hmm…That wasn’t there yesterday..that pinch
of being aware of what my body is capable of

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