Buddha Belly
Poem by Carrie Lynne Hawthorne
we woke up
my long hair stuck
to your balmy skin
my belly big
with our son
you surprised me
with fresh lychees
you taught me to peel
the thin skin
bite the juicy flesh
avoid the poison seed
you took a picture of me
in my green sundress
the caption read
“Can’t you see that
pregnancy glow?”
we took the Metro
to Chinatown
walked the crowded maze
of jade Buddhas, cell phone
cases, plastic toys,
fake designer handbags
the little black Mary Janes
with embroidered flowers
like cardboard under
my swollen feet
I wanted to take home
every mossy aroma
start my own apothecary
on the patio
soon after, you bought me
books on herbal medicine
I read them in my glider chair