30in30, Day 9: "Drive"

Hard labor these days is doing the dishes up.
What approximates standing on these palsied pegs
is not kind to the spine, low down,
between the uneven cradle of these hips.
These hips that will likely never serve their purpose,
parting to let slick life slide
screaming into being.
And yet this body continues the motions
of potential motherhood, ripening, shedding,
each month preparing itself for two cells
to make four,
to make toes and fingers and eyes
and legs kicking and finally breath,

at last, at last

I have watched others wax full
one by one,
like harvest moons.
I have prodded tiny feet
through the walls of wombs,
have cradled child after child
in my arms, their limbs drawn up reflexively,
perfect sculptures in miniature,

alive, alive.

I say I am a liberated woman,
modern, not too incredibly
desirous of children.
This was the truth,
once upon a time.
Would that it still were;
this longing is ruthless.
I cannot box it up
and send it back to the factory.
It is programmed in me,
a drive in a car with no brakes or mirrors.
I see the cliff coming at me,
and even given the danger,
I keep my hands on the wheel

 and consider, consider.