I keep my soul in my belly
You can see it–it wants to be seen
It burgeons out, pushing out; jiggly
My belly-soul embraces my child with its warmth
Little oven full of light, it doesn’t take any guff
and slaps my thigh when amused. This soul of mine gives
its gut-thoughts to me; intuition that never fails.
My soul wants room–it wants to be given space
when I pass by, and you’ll notice, though
you’ll not know what you’ve seen
as my spirit makes itself seen
in the jiggle and the sway.