In my head –

You are reaching out to me with arms

The wingspan of an albatross. And under the sheets

Of my womb, I wrap you in a bundle with the length

Of my legs. We roll into a globe,

Creating a world within the tear cast off

For our looming separation. It was gallant –

Our embrace as they write prosaic in red

Across our foreheads (wide as an airstrip). We are

A poem, deemed contemptible

Of a prize. And under the eyes of the sentinel,

I swore I would never let go

Of the you I had conceived
In the womb of my head.