Meaning to Be

Try again, she said,
this friend who refused my grief.

That baby was not meant to be.

But, I want to say,
My baby meant to be.
She was meaning to be.
She had meant to be.

My baby’s breath & tongue, still.
        The friend’s voice continues action alone.

Mammals’ Cries

four months old

Zookeepers reported Mei Xiang’s howls
as her baby died.

The Panda-Cam went dark.

We shuttered our windows.

Our pregnant neighbors didn’t say anything
about mine
and neither did I.

My second pregnancy ended
in a C-section. I heard
his first wails in this dry world from behind a sheet.

His entry point: a horizon on my abdomen,
where I fold to lift him.

—

Chloe Yelena Miller is a writer who lives in Washington, D.C., with her husband and child. Her poetry chapbook, Unrest, was published by Finishing Line Press (2013). She teaches writing at Politics & Prose bookstore, online at University of Maryland University College and Fairleigh Dickinson University, as well as privately. (chloeyelenamiller.com)