She denies each year that creeps
into her fragile bones as
careless creases inch around her eyes
and we shelter her,
carry her and care for her;
calm her when she weeps,
stroke her hair as she sleeps and
breathe shallow as we hope
she makes it
through another year,
month, week--
stop.
She never wanted the
fetus now flushed
into the void of all
unwanted things;
rejected from a life
it could not choose.
It would have been
just another crutch
she never used.
I wonder if she shrugged
as she lost you,
tiny one?
Shrugged as you held on tight...
You existed then were gone
like a hiccup,
like a dream, so real-
until eyes re-enter light.
She drowns herself in
percocet and loose joints
and she'll forget you
too soon;
stamp you down
into the mud of memories
squished into the back of the room.