The Unborn Child

Met this girl.
Rose-toned, rain-scented.
And things happened.
Love, lust, dreams.

Yeah, dreams.
Rushing in a tiny home
By the edge of the city.
Near a creak.

We dreamed together of
Petting a small panda.
We dreamed like we
Petted it in fact.

And one day. Like all those
One-days in parentheses-
That inevitably happen-
We fell apart.

Goodbyes stretched across
Length of my city,
Reaching only the closed
Doors.

It's been years now.
This house could have been
Bigger and baby-proofed.
The little panda sometimes-

Comes in my dreams to
Rest on my right arm.
The next morning my
Hand aches-

Like the sourness of a half
Remembered memory that
Stares like a cat all day from
Below the dining table.