You will never know
you will never understand the thing
you were there
they may have come out of your body
or someone else's.
You fed them with your dripping breasts
or dripping bottle nipple.
You may have even had sex
If you did, maybe you even know the exact
moment they came
but they didn't come, then, not really.
There's no way to pin it down
You will never understand
I promise you
—Ana C. H. Silva lives in East Harlem, NYC and Olive, NY. Her poems are in Podium, Rogue Agent, The Mom Egg Review, the nth position, Snow Monkey, Chronogram, StepAway Magazine, Anemone Sidecar, Between the Lines, and Shantih Journal. Ana created Olive Couplets, an Olive, NY community-based poetry work, and Lines in the Woods, an outdoor, interactive poetry installation at the CHHS in Rosendale, NY. Ana curates the MER online Gallery. She won the inaugural Rachel Wetzsteon Memorial PoetryPrize at the 92nd St. Y Unterberg Poetry Center. Her poetry chapbook, One Cupped Hand Above the Other, is with dancing girl press.