Artemis

I know that I was not meant to have your twins, Theo and Felicity, perfectly, preciously named,
because we would have conceived a tornado: Artemis and she would have broken me into postpartum and I'd have given her a life-long restlessness.
I love you still, and our daughter would have had your sea glass eyes and my wind-twisted night flight of curls,
skin the color of brown feathered birds, and in her wake, always, the scent of Caribbean salt,
but most certainly, a mouth unhinged - sharp & wise and legs always set to go and a hand unrelenting,
toward any nessecary slay - yes we'd have created a warrior in flesh, alit and strong, but instead, I will birth her into words.
And she will outlive our love, our could have, should have never been love. Our love that would have quaked a godess to earth -
one incapable of ever splitting herself in two.


Back


© 2018 Monica Lewis