Inhospitable

Each time the babies came
I knew they would be gone
by morning.

Bright as bulbs
turned out of beds,
hard and full
of promise.

Bodies
on the brink
of unfolding.

I could not hold them
and I could not hold them
long enough.

It was a sin to let them in.
I did not expect them to stay.
I did not expect their forgiveness
when I turned away.

More Poems by Emily Pérez