this russian music

there is a pregnant woman standing in front of me –
she’s wearing striped tights, tall boots, a short dress so
i can see her legs
which remind me

that her body is just a body –
a body very much like my body.

all at once i see her legs as though i were wearing
anatomy goggles – as though
she were an animation of
a woman’s body
from a page in a health text book.

i am twelve and twenty-nine at the same time
looking at her slim legs,
thinking about how the body
continues to be itself –
circulating blood,
digesting foods,
cycling through wakefulness
and repose,
the muscles,
the nerves,
the machine of what we exist in –
joints, functions, systems –
liquid and solid and gas…

and still, with all of this
all of this
going on,
there is a BABY
at the center of her.

i wonder how conscious she is of this
in any given moment – and if it changes.

at the moment she appears to be
grading papers.

each millisecond, her body, like mine,
is being alive…

but, that, of course,
is not all. i mean –

it is not only her own aliveness that
her body is generating,
but the aliveness
of a new


About scribblelip

walking down the road with a book of conjugations in my hand.
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