Thoughts

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 My body is laden with thoughts of you

They may turn to tatoos soon

Like a ladle filled with fine soup

 I pour my bowl filled with delicious soup

I’m Jamaican but my mind craves the comfort of viet soup. 

For my husband a bowl I pour

Vegetable soup for the soul

He’s delicious in every way

The way his hair curls atop his head, 

Where are you my future husband

A response I cannot find

the way his teeth sit perfectly inside his mouth

His voice I long to hear

Who’d have thought 

from childish play to natures way 

he would come to be this famous May

Mommas been going through things

My heart aches for my child at play

School starts soon

A battle I’m afraid I won’t win

The battle between me and my x has yet to settle.

My womb aches for the journey ahead

Another sip of comfort soup to quench my souls dismay.

For tools of the heart, I do not play.

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