My mother came home one day
without her uterus.
The doctor took it out.
Like someone heard me say
Let's act it out
act it out physically.
I was the baby who never cried
The snake on your breast
who stung you dry
The vicious pet
and yet you held
I shot past her knees past her hips past her breasts past
her shoulders, way past her wisps of hair, those rays
of grey light radiating from her shrunken head.
She had to look up to speak to me
She had to have wide eyes.
Life begins when the children are out of the house
and the dog is dead, I said.
She laughed
Dyed her hair black
Made me stay.
TIME BRINGS CHILDREN
THEY BURN HOLES IN OUR STOMACHS
POP OUR BELLY BUTTONS.
DEATH MAKES SENSE.
Weightless in your sticky fluids
too long you kept me in.
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