Changing the tempo

The boy turns my belly
into a drum
beating against its swell
with pudgy fists.
He delights in its vibrations
striking my thighs
to watch them shake.
In all its motion
he is absorbed:
an explorer testing
the outside of the universe
and measuring its edge.

I want to tell him
that he made me stretch
into a swelling horizon,
how the tight skin ridges
that make him giggle
were mountain ranges formed
by his tectonic dance.
Some days I want to accuse
his bursting frame
for the way that t-shirts cling
and my occasional grief in
harshly lit changing rooms.

But in the face of his joy
I have no response
because of all the bodies he loves
mine is the one he knows best
the taste and scent and sound
of all I am
for all his life
has been safety, strength, and home.
So I'll sing along to the rhythm he finds
in the softness of my skin
and feel the glory grow
in the reflection of his eyes.