FIRST FLUTTERING:
THE QUICKENING
© Jeannine Parvati Baker

I feel the baby move:
First fluttering.
The sensation cocoons me.
I enfold myself more deeply
into this pregnancy.

Insular, fleshing about creation:
A hidden magic, like a camera.
I've snapped the picture
of what our love looks like
and am silently growing it within.

How bold to fall in love
with my unseen child.
Soon, self-developed, out
you will slide. The picture of
our ecstasy becoming
clearer as you dry.

Adoration: You
of the original face.
Do I see a butterfly?
Some winged possibility
thrown here into my womb.

I look and peer inside.
You spin out yourself secretly:
A labyrinth of wet desire.
Sometimes I glimpse
a chaotic light, a firefly
blinking into existence.

These previews comes
before dawn, after dark,
at the changing times.
You soar then, weaving mystery.

Mostly I feel you.
As you hide from my eyes
you cannot from my skin.
I contain you, my baby:
As surely as soul holds me
or the ocean cradles the earth.

You are the lightest substance,
the tentative leap into matter.
I feel you like wet seaweed
around my thighs.
I feel your heart, twice
as fast as mine.
I feel your breath
reminding me of enlightenment.
I feel your hopes to be, quickening.