Hidden Poem by Nellie Isabelle Steward Cooper

How to describe
the never thing
The never seen

The never known
Whose bones are
nevertheless in
you
As the bones of an
Unborn child

The never thing grows
us into a different
shape
Pushes us up
crooked
It is something you
can see:
People stop in the
street, whispering

Of course it is a
secret not to be
There explained
'My edges are not
the edges of myself
Hidden
They are the edges
of the never seen thing
Waiting to be born, '

When you are pregnant
in body
The veriest oaf on
the street corner
Knows what has
gone before:
But this is a never been
thing
Which has not seen
the light of day:
A never thing unlike
all others - not kin to
but a changing
The never thing heeds
neither
Pattern nor prophecy:
Who knows the period
of its gestation?

This world, ? the next, ?
a hundred worlds
from now
You are misshapen

mayhaps my dear
you are the most shapely