I cannot detest what lies in my womb,
Not even when the shadows of men
Touch my thighs as they walk by.


I cannot neglect what keeps coming up
To the edge of my throat, food or thought,
When I think about him dragging his legs
After midnight towards empty rooms,
When I place hands down on my abdomen,
When I see another, like him, crawling in my empty self…

There is something up my throat
That I want to throw out,
My feet are cold
And I can’t gather courage
To force myself to let it out
I will try this time
When I see the old man
Dragging his feet
Towards the empty room
In the middle of another
Dark, lonely, night.



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