Soundings
The sonographer whose honeyed voice soothes as he inspects, instructs me to poke out my stomach out like I'm three months pregnant, and I who've never been, never will be, pregnant, stretch out my shamefully middle-aged belly to ceiling while he sounds the echoes bouncing back and forth,…
The sonographer whose honeyed voice soothes as he inspects, instructs me to poke out my stomach out like I'm three months pregnant, and I who've never been, never will be, pregnant, stretch out my shamefully middle-aged belly to ceiling while he sounds the echoes bouncing back and forth, back and forth within this space where babies will not grow but guts…
