Our Womb Poem by Summer Shaw

You sit close to me
on the porch each day
and we talk about moving to the west
and dream about our new house with rooms
that are painted in blues and greys
and how the rain will smell and just actually exist
unlike here
where the foundation moves and cracks with the clay each season
and all of the flowers we'd hope to plant never got planted
but it's nice
looking into your eyes and feeling hopeful
I wonder if this is how a baby feels
just before leaving its mother's womb
ready to taste oxygen and fall towards her breast
resting at last in her arms