by catarina clemente

A pregnant woman
lies at night by her man.
In her belly
a child moved.
“Put your hand on my belly,”
says the woman.
“What moved so lightly
is a tiny hand or leg
of our child.
It will be mine and yours
though only I have to bear it,”

The man nestles close to her,
they both feel the same.
In the woman a child moves.

And the three bodies pool their warmth
at night, when a pregnant woman
lies by her man.

– anna swir