Motels We Stay in While Trying to Get Pregnant
An arrow lights up, pointing away from
the hotel, but the metal umbrellas
dotted the roadside, and we knew to turn.
The palms winding to the desk were the same
from the 60s, as we would see carried
over into the bedding, threadbare and
orange. This time, we’re eager to see doctors,
but we don’t – only nurses – and each night
sitting outside of the bright yellow door
after a day of vials and magic catheters,
we imagine the sunbursts that surround
The Sands echo through my womb, small, ready.
The phosphenes linger inside for two weeks
then gone, my gut sinks back into the dark.
