where he plays
with kids his age…
and their siblings.
And their mothers
look at me and wonder
if he
will ever be
a brother.
None of them want to know I tried
multiple times,
but they look at me.
My womb is empty;
still
I fill
my bucket with blueberries.
I fill
my kettle with water.
I fill
my cup with tea.
The crib is empty
already
(still)
but the toddler bed is filled
like our days
of nature walks
and sidewalk chalk.
Still,
there are names that make me wonder
what my boy would be like as a brother:
Mack. Margo. Ransom. Stevie.
Names I had chosen when I thought maybe
another life could live inside me.
My womb is empty
still.
I fill
my nights with bitter prayer.
I fill
my son’s days with love.
I fill
my cup with tea.
