Full

Floating above the roof tops of my dream,
I saw a woman in a polka dot dress
ambling down the driveway. God whispered,
She’s not fat, she’s pregnant.
I was thinking to myself that the curve of her face
was not, in fact, ugly,
and God told me
she was me.

And so I entered a high-rise building
took the steps five or twenty months at a time.
On a floor near the top, I found the vestibule of my life
crowded with antique furniture.
Apparently, it is the fashion of the future
to inhabit households beyond the door.
I liked the way we left our coats on hooks in the hall
and our shoes tucked under the armoire.

I wondered how it was that the
neighbors never stole anything. They just didn’t.
And so we took a tour, me and God. My mother led us
to the kitchen
and I helped her set the table. She said,
“From here on out,
there is nothing new under the sun.”

She told me that my husband snores,
the kids need dinner and so it goes.
“It’s nice,” she said. Happiness
is where the home is. But I insisted,
“Don’t you ever wonder
what might have been?”

She had no answer. She only shrugged, and smiled.
I thought to myself, at least I know
it’s not a sickness in my belly
And I woke up
with my arms full of her powder blue table cloth,
folded
full of my pillow
in a ball against my middle.

Yesterday, he told me
“Maybe.”