..:: CONTENTS ::..

   Volume VIII, Issue II

..:: POETRY ::..

..:: PROSE ::..

..:: ETC ::..
   Contributor's Notes

..:: ARCHIVES ::..
   Volume I, Issue I
   Volume I, Issue II
   Volume II, Issue I
   Volume II, Issue II
   Volume III, Issue I
   Volume III, Issue II
   Volume IV, Issue I
   Volume IV, Issue II
   Volume V, Issue I
   Volume V, Issue II
   Volume VI, Issue I
   Volume VI, Issue II
   Volume VII, Issue I
   Volume VII, Issue II
   Volume VIII, Issue I


Baby Bump
Genevieve Betts


He couldn't keep his gaze off of my baby bump, eyes glazing over our conversation. Instead, he tried to imagine what it would be like to be pregnant. He couldn't.

His wife called me, concerned. I saw him in the bathroom mirror smiling, turning side-to-side patting and admiring a down pillow up his shirt.

What a vision! 5 o'clock shadow, receding hairline, light blue boxers and a bulging belly–his hairy hands patting it oh-so-gently.

I did what any friend would do–cracked my body open like a geode, inserted the crystalline core inside of him. His body became an egg, hardened shell protecting the golden yoke.

When he gave birth, I wondered how, saw a brief flutter in the baby's mouth. Reaching between pink gums, I pulled out a dying ladybug–hard candy shell wings, wet now, unable to close over its soft black body.



//   Advance   //