When I grew you
Inside of me,
I grew new limbs.
My branches grew new ways
To reach for the world
And touch it
In the places where it aches.
When I grew you
Inside of me,
I grew roots
That hunger
more madly,
thirst
more devoutly.
Inside of me,
Eyes multiplied
And blossomed on my skin
Like fish scales.
You were once slipped surreptitiously
Into my womb
To tame my wild ways,
Only to grow into the fire in my belly,
Ever leaping in joy,
Ever steady in vigil.
All that I poured into myself
In all my years wandering…and light
* * *
Diya Bose is a Ph.D. candidate in sociology at UCLA. She spent the last year doing fieldwork on transgender issues in India while also trying to have a happy and healthy pregnancy and birthing experience. Her new poems, including this one, emerge out of meditations on the struggles and delights encountered on that unexpected dual journey.
