there is a theory that the cells of our children
remain in our bodies
long after we have pushed them into the world

i think about this when i realize she’s dead
(i never forget but i’m always remembering)

i am constantly folding into it,
nuzzling such a comforting thought

that she still remains in me,
embedded and ingrained,
on some kind of atomic level

but really, isn’t it absurd to think
that it could be any different

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