sara ii

i loved you like a Fleetwood Mac song
all ankle boots and jangly bracelets
your baggy t-shirt, overlong
doesn't hide any of your secrets
i had an idea to hold you
would have sat silent at your feet
just to hear your praise
and kiss the space in-between

i know that you're heavy with him
he's made you fat like an overripe peach
(still not i know his name,
inconsequential as he is)
made you round and tame
like you're diseased within
this private thing you're holding,
a belly full of lies
i hate that you're swollen
that you'll continue his bloodlines
i don't care if it sounds hateful
don't pick out any names
i would have you miscarry
i am just that inhumane

i hate that you might become sober
might be any less of a pain
that one day you'll be a mother and
lose that step which seems so free
your expressive soft treaded gait
become so dull and ordinary
encumbered by the weight
of offspring yet to be
i want you as you are now
the crunch in autumns stop
a heady moody slumber
which tends to forget
my very own sara, poet
in my heart you might be
i want to play you love songs
the sound of my loneliness in dreams

if, by chance i'm wrong
and you've just gained
some kind of softness
i would hold you in both hands
and kiss all of your fullness
my body would hold the weight of you
there's nothing i would see you lose
you couldn't pry away my fingers
from your soft middle, in proof
i'd feed you sweets and dinner
just to have more of you
if i could hold you in handfuls
cherry pick is what i'd do
spread you out like a banquet
i'd give you the finest fruit
feed you by hand apricots
with the intent to pollute
that sickening desire the
thought of child within
for as i cannot give you my own
i'd commit this mortal sin