A Gifted Thought Sitting in an Art Exhibition about Childbirth

You look like someone I loved. When I saw you, I thought of being bundled in blankets in an ACed room with a blistering summer day wasting away. Drifting to sleep was easy enough. The blankets smothered my consciousness. But I always wake up with my joints aching, and the air stolen from me, swirling about in some ethereal plane. You’re a luxury gone bad, and I had forgotten the bad.