Crazy Real

the official blog of author and poet Jennifer Wilson

It Doesn’t Have To Make Sense

I thought I was pregnant
for a minute

I wasn’t late
I didn’t think
but I couldn’t remember
I forgot to make the mark on the calendar
the tiny mark
that tells me
when the spectre of life
would pass

And the man and I
we were not as careful
as we might have been

And so I didn’t know.

Not really.

And I didn’t want to be
and yet I did.
Because I’m stupid that way.
and conflicted
and full of nonsense
and half-baked dreams.


I really did not want to be.

I was going to be devastated if I was.
Full of sorrow.

So I am happy.

And I sit now
writing a poem
about how it feels
and I tell myself
that I am glad
as I cry.

1 Comment

  1. No. It doesn’t have to make sense. Except it does make sense.

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