last night in the bathroom a drunk girl put her hand on my belly.
"I was pregnant once," she said.
"My boyfriend didn't want me to have it, so..."
tears glassed her lit eyes and she ducked into a stall.
tonight you are napping beside me on the couch
and the wind through the glass blows loud like words
and despite small mourning for things lost or changed--
a tiny avalanche of kisses, a word from far away--
i'm grateful. thank you for being brave
and standing strong where others ran,
where i could not on my own except in looking back.
a tiny storm in flutters now, and eyes that speak in colour.
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