Buzzards Bay

She strokes the bulge of my belly.
‘…like a fish in the sea,’ she says.
At twenty months she’s young enough to reimagine what it’d be like for baby, swimming in amniotic fluid, suspended within my womb by the sheer will of life.
I imagine you’re far away from Buzzards Bay,
ploughing through the oceans harvesting great shoals of herring, pollack and black bream as far as the Arctic Sea.
Olivia sleeps and I wait for you to come home.
I see you falling into the water.
Your eyes open, you tuck your knees into yourself.
Let the current bring you back to me.

Let the current bring you back to me.
Your eyes open, you tuck your knees into yourself.
I see you falling into the water.
Olivia sleeps and I wait for you to come home.
Black bream as far as the Arctic Sea,
ploughing through the oceans harvesting great shoals of herring, pollack and
I imagine you’re far away from Buzzards Bay,
At twenty months she’s young enough to reimagine what it’d be like for baby, swimming in amniotic fluid, suspended within my womb by the sheer will of life.
‘…like a fish in the sea,’ she says,
she strokes the bulge of my belly.

Mickela Sonola

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