Lapping

i can always feel baby in me. she says,
licking a stamp. i know it's there cause
it vibrates when it needs me and
i put my hand down onto my belly,
eyebrows locked, and feel it purring. it sends me
a text when it's hungry. then i know, let it take
from me what it needs. not sure why i prefer it,
no. it gets what it wants. it gets
silk, and nectar, and butter. her legs crossed
beneath her, foot in lap. it has a signature,
but no sure name yet. it has my
big feet, and it's strong, and so it is clear.
we wanted this. we are why. that man
wasn't even big enough to get inside. don't take it
the wrong way, don't take it out of
context. we laugh about that now.
it's our inside joke, me and baby. baby and me.
she glides her hand over. i got hairs on my tummy.
and it don't make me no prettier to be attacked.
i wish that baby would, baby, call mama
back. sometimes it feels like i'm
drowning out. she sits up suddenly.
don't forget to dial area code. don't forget to do
your practice. she looks for the
camera. i show baby terrorist flashcards.
i cry so it can identify who is our enemy.
and i know that we agree cause
when baby sweats it comes out of me. she
smiles into the black glass eye. do you
think that it sees me? she leans over to
take a long puff. she leans over to grab a pen.
signed,
burlap baby, bumble bee wet.
young sum of the times.