She fluttered last night
then kicked real good—
swift jabs, footprint shapes
protruding stick-like out my abdomen.
I tried to decipher a heel or an elbow
before she repositioned herself.
These movements I haven’t felt
in a decade, all my children grown.
No name picked or suitcase packed,
bolting awake, ready for delivery,
I find only these pages
waiting to be swaddled.
New Baby by Lisa Wiley | Garden Lavender Poetry Reed Diffuser Set
Lisa Wiley is an English professor in upstate New York. A finalist for the London Independent Story Prize, she’s authored four chapbooks including Eat Cake for Breakfast (Dancing Girl Press, 2021), Big Apple Rain (The Writer’s Den, 2018), My Daughter Wears Her Evil Eye to School (The Writer’s Den, 2015) and Chamber Music 21 Villanelles (Finishing Line Press, 2013). “New Baby” first appeared in Verse-Virtual. Find her on X @wileymoz.
