And I’m pregnant

Because I’m pregnant

 

By Karen Cole-Peralta

 

 

(While reading this, please bear in mind that I’m protected. Somewhat.)

 

And I’m telling it to whatever’s out to “get me”

That I’m pregnant

I’m secretly hoping to whatever Gods there be

That I’m pregnant

And I watch to the stars and I dream about Mars

And I eat nothing but sterling silver golden screaming candy bars

So I’m pregnant. So that.

 

Ah, I can write about nothing but black people, and I’m not black!

 

If my husband can ever wake up and see

That I’m pregnant the lie is – that I’m pregnant.

I’ve never thought I was a woman once in my whole life,

And I don’t deserve the baby. Who is my already wonderful

Daughter Angela. Who is not imaginary, and I often think she is.

 

And if I wake up to myself being two people again

Like last time, when an unknown entity resided

So deep within me, I never wanted her to leave,

And want to keep her or him safe in there

I will never hit anyone ever again

Because the last time,

My daughter learned martial arts from me…

Because I’m only merely pregnant.

 

It could be another skipped period

Because I’m pregnant.

I’m holding a hostage deep inside of me,

Because I think I know that maybe I’m pregnant.

It could be another reason to be God.

Any day now my menses come odd.

And I am no longer my very own chum

Like I was once, like I was once

 

My daughter Angela she’s sitting right next to me playing video games.

 

But the cramps I feel are not menstrual cramps,

They are leg cramps from the exercise

And the clear gunk shot out of me like when it did

Last time. When I was pregnant.

 

The Aryan Brotherhood of unhappy folk

Locked away forever in prisons unbowed by anyone

Is on the TV, and I married a Pilipino boxer

Who will never punch me in the stomach?

It doesn’t hurt if he never does that

Like he seems to threaten to sometimes

And nobody cares about this but me.

But I’m pregnant. It’s sad or happy,

Life is whatever you make out of it.

I am rattling this off now, but will change it later.

Because I am pregnant.

 

I am only a cockroach, and everyone can’t ignore me.

Too well. I’m not even making not enough or enough money.

 

And my whole life happened to me, to me,

Because I’m pregnant.

We created this whole goldenrod society

To make me pregnant.

And I am he or she or they or me

Because I’m pregnant.

And I’m forty six f-ing years old.

Hitler deserves credit for saving me

George Bush now has his very own tree

Albert Einstein was a Jew who loved his knee

No one whatsoever is my enemy

I love thee I love thee I love thee

Because I’m pregnant

 

After the tears:

To every teenager who’s never been told

That my poetry is now getting pretty old,

Because…I’m not pregnant.

 

No, I lied. The period did not shoot out,

And I still have doubt!

 

Karen Cole Peralta is Executive Director

of Rainbow Writing, Inc.