Five Months Pregnant

Deborah Bacharach


Let’s suppose my car stalls
on the bridge to the ferry dock.
I would have to push by myself, braced
from the back of my legs, as my daughter
hums in her car seat.
But then all the other cars, 
the tall blond SUVs, the cool kids
who rock the virulent red convertibles
and even the souped up low riders
would stop in sympathy, get out, 
hats tipped against the rain
that has not yet come. 
In my scene, we all wear
these pink, yes, pink
cowboy hats and we sing
git along little doggies. 
Someone strums a guitar. 
Someone else passes a large bag of chips. 
My daughter clamors into my arms.
I show her salmon clouds. 
She shows me imagined gulls. But
black clouds roll in, the road sways.  
We all cram down our hats, shout
our goodbyes.
I'm making those sounds
I make after the storm of her temper passes. 
Suppose we are paused like that?  Suppose
we are paused like that, and no one ever comes.



Deborah Bacharach is the author of After I Stop Lying (Cherry Grove Collections, 2015). Her work has appeared in Calyx, Arts & Letters, Blue Mesa Review, and Texas Review among many others. A two time Pushcart Prize nominee, she is a teacher and writing tutor in Seattle. Find out more about her at

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