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Sport 34: Winter 2006

The Young Wife

page 164

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.