BY JESSICA URSELL

a family of two
soon to be three
he caresses her
and pulls her close

we’ll have a garden he says
with seeds deep in the earth
the roots will grow
and our fruit will stretch
toward the sun
in time it will flourish
juicy and ripe

she returns his caress with a smile
knowing birthing new life is not so easy

conditions must be right
attention must be paid
to the ambient temperature
soil rich and welcoming
not dried and cracked open with thirst

but she is a mother
and Hope is her maxim

dark now
crows shriek overhead
their shrill squawking
not a harbinger of life

cries crack the night sky
shattering
the frigid ice air

her belly
hard and round and ripe

his caress
now a sharp memory
slashing at her heart

where is he now
she doesn’t know

lying on a stretcher
in a hospital hallway
deep grooves in her face
mirroring scarred pits
furrows in the ravaged ground

shivering
she lies frozen in fear
hands interlaced
across her mound

a pitiful shield
but it’s all she can do

there are no doctors anymore
just icy wind
whipping through the empty corridors

too weak to move
and there’s nowhere to go
wishing she could walk outside and rest
in the soft white snow

but there is no rest
only bursts of red
and billows of black

their world is broken
and there’s no coming back

(First published by Versopolis for Poetry Expo 2025)