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Dream of the Mother

Wendy Wisner

In the dream, a man touches me.
His fingers sink into my hipbone,
then across my belly, still broken
where it stretched to cloak a child.

The touch was real,
but when I wake, my husband is gone,
and the baby is snoring beside me,
arm limp across my other hip.

Who touched me?
All morning I feel his hand
cold and living against my skin.

Wendy Wisner

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