Come with me, through

the gate, we'll find the way 
but hurry, do. The path is 
hidden but there all the same—
the leaves will disguise it again
when we've passed. Follow the 
children, they'll know the way;
their feet will always find the 
smoothest stones. Run with me.
This way is safer & farther away
from the noise, from what chases us.
It's always there, so start running.

Your belly is not yet a bomb. 
Your belly does not hide a bomb. 

You fly up & over the gate.
You brush the last leaves on the 
bough & they fall off, disguising 
our path. There is a child running
ahead of us. She seems to know 
the way but hesitates & turns
to look at me. Do you know the
way? she asks, & you bundle 
her up in your skirts & we run. 

Your belly is not a bomb. 
Your belly does not hide a bomb.