Poem: Untitled

She had fears

of what others would say

about her newly, expanded hips,

and kangaroo pouch

for a baby she had 9 years

after 25, her body changed

as did her brain, Mom,

her new name became

the most rewarding, yet

stressful job to date

but not as stressful as

what she thought they’d say

to letting her stomach hang

out from underneath

the halter top she’d been dying

to wear but was too scared

of the backlash about black women

needing to feel ashamed

of show and telling everyone

they survived labor and

delivery was enough to birth

a new identity: a woman unafraid

of anyone’s “by all means”

telling her to cover up

a victory with no recollection

of anybody else pushing

out.the.frustration

of interns, nurses, and PhDs

gathering in the room, watching

as if it was reality TV

when she was simply

having a non-medicating,

non-sugical,

natural birth.

She had fears that disappeared

the moment she looked in

the mirror revealing her

reflection.

Took out her phone,

pointed in the direction

of her outie,

got in position,

counted down from three,

two,

one,

PUSH.

Click.

Then uploaded

onto the internet

unafraid

to represent

a new image.