Fuck off, Babycentre

An email pinged

Squeezed between an ad for a new film

And a reminder about prep enrolment


You are 32 weeks pregnant.


Your baby is the size of a pineapple.

It’s bones are calcifying, so eat almonds, cheese, whole milk.

You may get heat rashes under your breasts.

Be kind to your back when you roll over in bed.


There is a pineapple in my fruitbowl

In the corner of the kitchen.

It is from Yeppoon, where Lee grew up,

Surrounded by mango trees, siblings, heat.


My baby was the size of a mango,

And just as sweet.

Her skin was the colour of a plum

Soft, cool and damp. A half-formed thing.


I sliced the pineapple after dinner,

Carving through the calloused skin,

The fermented flesh at the base dark with juice.

We eat it with our hands, dripping onto the deck.


The rain turns the view monochromatic,

Grey trees, grey sky.

The pineapple is tart, and sweet.

My baby was the colour of a plum.