To an Unborn Daughter

-for Hilary

You’re only a thought I now

impress onto your mom.

My fingers write your name

on her skin. With slight pressure,

I inscribe I M O G E N

across her stomach.

Who knew we willed you to life?

Now, you’re on the way,

and it’s never too early to start.

I kiss your mom’s distended belly

and whisper Ramona will be

your new name. You will be smarter

than we. And with that, I write poems

to you. Your mom sings.

You kick in accord.

Then, there were complications.

Now, you’re again a thought

impressed in our souls. Your mom

and I feel your name on our lips,

bellies and fingers. Imogen.

Ramona. How can we call you?

How could we forget?