Bundle of Joy

For three days
I wore this flesh-colored sweatshirt—
So aptly named.
First at my parents'
Covered in their dog’s hair and
Subtle aching scents.
Then to bed until the prickly heat
Forced its freedom to the other side
Of the hotel queen.
Then another night in the hotel
Just the same.
Now she is wearing it
Making no mention of the smells of me.
I feel a kind of pride in this
As though she has reentered the womb
Willing to wear my skin again.
She pulls the hood up over her headphones
Reverting to her bald head
Sleeping softly across the aisle from me
On the plane home.

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Abbie Bradfield Mulvihill grew up in the Chicago area, but for the past 35 years has been working and writing in the Washington, DC area. Abbie's poems have been featured in publications such as The Best American Poetry's "Pick of the Week," Beltway Poetry Quarterly, and Innisfree Poetry Journal.