Golden girl under the blue light
small chest rising and falling.
I lift you out of your transparent crib;
you murmur, look at me with a puzzled frown.
I unbutton: you shake your head until
your furious gums lock on. My womb
convulses, remembering we were
two orchids wound upon the same stem.
I thought that like the boy you couldn’t live,
felt again his clutching for breath,
but you persisted, held on tight,
tore at my flesh, demanded love.
Published in Pennine Platform (Vols. 51–2, September 2002); and Images of Women, (eds. Myra Schneider and Dilys Wood) Arrowhead, 2006.