Carrying my 2-year-old up three flights of concrete steps
and now I feel my body work like this:
The levers of the long bone pivoting on the knee,
the effort of the femoris pulling the load,
the tension needed to haul the weight of love.

Then, my heart as we rise:
Climbing pulse, expanding chambers, electrical conduction,
systole, diastole,
red river of life beating song, looping long,
keeping rhythm with her taut resistive force.

I have become
Atlas holding heaven to my breast-
the fulcrum, counterbalance, to a galaxy of stars
that will soon enough be spinning
away from me.


Kimberly Niyogi abandoned her Social Work career to embrace Motherhood and poetry writing. She resides in Easton, PA, occupying an existence somewhere between melancholy and bliss. Her poetry can and will soon be seen in Bottle Rockets Press and Chantarelle's Notebook.


 

take me home