All I can think about are the drums of

"Baby, Baby, Baby."

No.

Not the soundtrack of

"I want a baby."

Just.

Pots and pans over and under

Every thought I have.

Is this the elusive biological clock?

Bay-bee.

Bay-bee.

Is this some sort of curtain?

Ripped from my windows and now

Everything is bathed shadows of pink and blue?

Every month - Maybe we're ...

Staring at my naked body

Pounding my stomach.

Why won't you work?!?

There are others who want this more

Who treat their bodies like temples.

Mine - an afterthought.

This is a newborn want

still in it's infancy.

Not Pregnant.

Others have let their wishes mature

Have spent fortunes and traveled leagues.

Our clock chimes -

Bay-bee.

Bay-bee.