Lani Scozzari
The night they pulled your body from my body,
an echo. I will always hear
the slap of your skin on the scale, your
weight, a silver sliver.
When I fail to transform
life into life—
Last night, footsteps across mahogany floor
called to me, a blur of blue shadow I heard,
You housed my body for long enough
and though the time was short,
I lived.
And just as light passes across ceiling, there was nothing
but a knowing my child had become another.