Pregnancy
Begetting the grant given to me,
dough sits on the counter, yearning to be risen.
Your flesh shall be thickened with the addition of cornstarch.
And I’ll moisturize you with almond and vanilla extracts; a soul sweetener.
Should I bake you? A mango brioche perhaps.

Birth
I painted the crib red, for the forthcomings of your sorrows.
They say a woman should reap her beauty, but look effortless for the man
“Water your crop in secret, feed her at night...”
So I breastfeed you with my tart lactate during the day.
I tell my newborn to not exist for anyone except herself.
You, in this world, like a glass ball in war, I seize the overwhelming thought
but I cradle you with my vest on.

Growing
I beaded a yellow bracelet because your husk was leaking for four days
Sometimes you say your hunger dissolves, and your meals grow smaller
Like your teeth are thorns, and a chew pierces your tongue
So then you compare yourself to the berries and papayas of the world
and pray to be blessed with their line and their color or their size because that's appetizing
Some acne will scatter your canvas
and yellow blush floods your cheeks
but your golden interior will remain

Lover
I crocheted a green blanket after he kissed you
He should cherish your saccharine and be patient like waning yarn
He must praise you and offer his assistance
Like a hammock held between two walls of graphene, please hold her dearly
But do not pacify her or submit her into the docile role
For you both are organisms, congenial by the presence of each other

Marriage
I fermented mango wine because the spectrum of love begins in your quotidian
Even when you grow old and your pulp dries
the offspring receives the seeded gift