I learned today that you can dream. Tiny eyelids

fluttering in sleep.

You know nothing of the outside world, of the

chaos you’ll be born into.

Can you sense my heartbeat change—slow

to quick? Can you hear your father’s voice? Can

you feel

my hand as I tap out a rhythm

on my stomach? Do you feel me as I laugh,

as I swear, as I cry?

I wonder who you’ll be, as you kick my ribs late at

night.

I wonder if you know you’re loved.

Can you sense that yet?