Content Warning: racism or racialized violence
Body/Mind Braid
One night, I couldn’t get close enough to the earth. Spinning,
I left my bed and pressed the length of my body to the rug,
the shell of my ear to the ground.
The cat roused from her own bed and sauntered in my
direction, only stopping when she stood so close that her fuzzy
black paws were all that I could see.
I had a sense I’d never had before, a sense I’ve never had since.
Vibration is one way to say it, flutter is another, but now I’m
just throwing words at something for which I have no words.
In my ear I heard a thrumming that I could feel in my bones,
my body a conduit for some unnamed thing.
The next morning, I woke from the living room floor, bursting
with knowledge. “I’m pregnant,” I told my husband, and his
eyes crinkled the way they do when he doesn’t believe me,
when he thinks I’m being unreasonable but doesn’t want to say
it. He asked how I knew, but I didn’t have the language. I
sputtered something about the middle of the night, dizziness,
a strange feeling. “Even the cat could tell,” I said, “and you
know animals have a sixth sense.” As if I’m not an animal
myself, as if I shouldn’t trust my own instincts.
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