[For the record... even I find the choice and extent of the metaphor here really rather odd, and kind of intriguing] <br /> <br /> <br /> <br /> <br />I had shed my sheath by then, <br />absently, like a teenage boy <br />discarding a condom in a <br />wastebasket. I had done so <br />without hesitation; thinking it <br />no longer necessary, finding <br />it suddenly uncomfortable, <br />and feeling, unconsciously but <br />unquestionably, revolted by <br />the viscous part of myself that <br />seemed so needlessly trapped <br />inside it. <br /> <br />You were so perfect – <br /> <br />and I wanted desperately, <br />undeniably, entirely, <br />to press myself, perfectly, <br />into you. <br /> <br />I, utterly uninhibited <br /> <br />unprotected, exposed, <br />laid myself bare to your perfection – <br />complete in my desire to bear <br />as much of you as you’d offer - <br />oblivious to any reason <br />I might wish <br />otherwise <br /> <br />Until… <br />I felt the truth grow <br />inside me as the days passed <br />to weeks and weeks became <br />months. <br />Swollen with expectation, <br />expanding in ways both <br />new and terrifying, <br />I became the womb <br />where love’s progeny <br />would linger without benefit <br />of a name. <br /> <br />And still, unshielded, <br />vulnerable, apparent, <br />I carry <br />your tomorrow <br />within me <br /> <br />and wait.<br /><br />Christine Austin Cole<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/pregnant-pause-2/
