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Cotton Fields
by Angela ThomasI think that I kept my little secret as long as I could
before I had to break. Before I had to crack myself
open and show him where the blood was. If we were
both robots, or we were both able to let go of what
we should have been doing, maybe we could have
actually embraced the moment that I told him I was
pregnant. Maybe if I still was. Maybe the dreams
should have told me that something was different,
maybe I should have listened to them and he should
have listened to the soft silence in my voice as he
had to talk me to sleep because I was having trouble
otherwise. Still, I am nothing more than a vessel
and what becomes a part of me can easily become
a part of something else. Still, I just want to pretend
for a moment that I'm allowed to be sad that I lost
this time. Cotton feilds are filled with Daisies. Dreamers
walk around New York City, they work in Advertising,
they eat at the Chinese restaurant on my block, and
they sleep in my bed. What they dream is hard to
distinguish from reality. A little blood hard to
distinguish from a baby. 01/25/2006 Posted on 01/26/2006
Copyright © 2024 Angela Thomas
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