Empty Wombs

We have wombs
that fill up once a month
and empty during moments of love.
Slices of heavens that meet at the gathers of skirts.
It makes me wonder how poets don’t write
as many poems to the perspiration
gathering at the small of your back.
Or the fact that we are both
gazing towards our foliages and fruitless shrubs
and that we don’t need the gardens to flower
or draw butterflies or mesmerize visitors
with more colors other than green.
Tell me,
do the sunrays tickle
when they graze your forehead, nape and back?

Ivie Urdas writes poems in Filipino, English and Ilokano. She was a fellow of the Linangan sa Imahen, Retorika at Anyo poetry clinic in 2016. Her works have been published in Bannawag, and in an all-women anthology book, Lila (2019).

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1 Response to Empty Wombs

  1. I appreciate the way this poem ranges over so many facets of human nature, beginning with the ultra-feminine and winding around to the sensual, but not sexual, question about sunlight on skin. Meaningful to any thinking human.

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