"Wait For Rain"

Written By

A. Whittenberg

They’d have to save all the whales before they get to prisoner’s rights.

Still, to


protect the unborn I’m cuffed in front transported on a state bus.

Will the maternity ward be pastel blue or pastel pink? It’s institutional white. I’m no

angel. They are no monsters. They speak in a hush.

Going under, reminds me of the high life. Like a slap, his cry kills my buzz. We bond

for two years, then he’s off to his sentence.

The name I gave him won’t stay.

He won’t remember my scent.

He doesn’t have my eyes.

But maybe one day if he’s not shipped too far on a side street glazed with rain. I’ll

pass a stranger who won’t be.

A Whittenberg is a poet and novelist (Tutored, Random House 2010). She has had Scleroderma since 2013.

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