Sport 34: Winter 2006
The Young Wife
The Young Wife
Already with child
on board ship to the gold country—
and the child cried
like coins in the pocket
when I moved.
I longed to rest these nights
against whitewashed wall.
Shape of a kidney bean
my baby would not rock
or take milk
stomach of silver fish
flipping.
Connection taut
and twisted in navel
freshly scabbed. I tried
to hold against wash and roll
as strong as the beams above me;
dark furrowed into light
showing spiders' webs
that harnessed us in.