I'm pregnant with a poem
but I haven’t told anyone

at night I have cramps in my calves,
in the morning I lie long in bed
because I know, as soon as I get up, I will be pressing my hands over my mouth.

I lock myself up in the bathroom, I observe myself in the mirror
pull in my stomach, looking for signs on my face
and in my eyes.

It's miraculous how they become softer yet more pronounced,
my hair is shiny, glinting with nuances,
as I let it fall down my back, allowing it to finally grow long.

I zip up my pants, leaving the top button unbuttoned,
for she is already taking shape, growing a backbone,
her heart has already been beating for a long time.

I don't know if she will have my dreamy eyes
or your almighty hands,
a melon, it will be a boy,
a watermelon, it will be a girl.

I will love her, for she's hurting me so beautifully inside
although everyone will be disgusted by her
once it becomes clear
how round I have become.

Nevertheless, it's the way of the World,
and no one can change it,
for no sooner than we met, I simply knew
this would happen for us.