Undelivered

by Melissa Crowe

In the dream I wake and walk to the bathroom where I feel your skull moving low, its surface through my skin hard and grainy as a stone where you stretch me but there is no pain, you say I am coming, I am coming, suddenly passionate about this passage you press your head into the narrow mouth and now palming your slick crown, I limp back to the bed where I birth you into my hands, suck the white from your nose and hold you breathing in the blue night, the night where I meet you, where you drink my milk as you drank my blood, where you have left my body to meet my body, and I thank you for coming, I thank you for coming to me.