A POEM REVISITED

i should be the only babe that rests upon you

my christmas roast now lay in the garbage
in a pool of potatoes and pasta and vegetables -
a slight hint of Pabst
and a huge helping of my nerves

lord knows how you are taking it your nerves:
if i have have the guts that you do
then maybe i could keep my dinner down

i can only imagine how your stomach churned
back when this was you

my sister's life seems almost too close to mine and yours right now:

you are not my sister, of course -
a mother too young, scared by babies
yet stern in her dealings with them,
as her belly is no longer soft like yours

the holidays are too much for us -
6 hours and one day
is far too long for me to wait
for me to be when i cannot rest my hands
upon you
and tell you that somehow things
will not grow within you

and pray for that brief candle
to go out

you have brothers - you don't really see
what i've seen with my sisters
and their bellies
until it happens to you

when you have to think of how your body
lies on anothers and what that does
to your youth and your drastic changings
you really start to wonder where things
went wrong

or maybe right

this should puff out our chests
and clenche our fists
and make us stand on firmer ground
in our bravery instilled upon ourselves
by our ignorant and hopeful love

maybe

right now i am lying in bed
the smell of tossed-up christmas in my mouth
and maybe
just maybe

it is for nothing