I am transitioning.
motherhood:
milk-coated moments
soft, opaque, all love and light.
smoke-filled lungs
choking on small scenes
wading blindly
I started small.
one additional heart
five years, holding his
small, sturdy body in my arms
feeling it bloom, all limbs.
his hands, still new, only larger now.
he rests them on my growing belly
his brother
his small mouth talks of protection.
I hold him as I always have
with my whole self
days, minutes, hours before
I split myself in two.