(no subject)

Nobody knows that I'm pregnant
Nobody gives half a damn
The only difference this time
Is the toddler holding my hand

A woman unburdened with babies
Outside of her burgeoning bump
Is an object of some fascination
To every half-witted chump

But a woman who's already got one
Doesn't even get asked "When's it due?"
The grannies who groped the bump last time
Don't even see there's a Bump Number Two.

On the rare and enchanting occasions
I venture outdoors all alone
I'm a woman of Ur-fertile mystery
Well-attended by everyone.

But when I am carrying babies,
One inside, one under my arm,
And the shopping-bags over my shoulder,
I see less delight, more alarm.