sometimes i feel my body actually craving the expulsion of words. i feel them banging around in my chest cavity, pushing against my stomach and ricocheting off my collarbone. gestating like a child in the womb ready to be birthed. with not enough space, they squirm, trying to find a comfortable position. yet there is no comfortable position in this too-small-body that was only meant to be a temporary home.

but i don't yet know the child's name. and i have no idea what words i am ready to birth. all i know is, i am so full with them i feel as though i might explode.