Remember only this. The stillborn are still born. Yes, I came and went without breath or wail, or sup of milk at your readied breast. I didn’t wrap my hand around your little finger, yet we know what we are to each other. You had reasons for not naming me but were so gutted when you saw the forward-slash on my registration form. Come now, put all of this aside. Recall only how you held me deep and sure within you, fingers lulling me through your belly’s broad arc. We are infinitely more than linear time.
Jay Kelly is a writer of fiction and non-fiction, based in Dublin.