Against the lavender of a Capricorn:
less chubby at age fourteen than at eighteen,
produced at the wrong time.

Her stars are their least private in December,
moths pick up ovaries and eggs
from below her dress
left behind from relationship number one.

A lesbian curse, no offspring
for her girlfriend was a Capricorn spirit too.

A nymph who took ten seconds to leave
though eight years to disappear:
nurses say, “it just hurts for a moment,”
but needles ruin your whole ******* week.

But out of two Capricorn women,
one is sure to get pregnant.

The first’s not heard of powdered milk,
nor would she have any,
calcium-deficient so others break her bones.

She has a cabinet of amber orbs
held with sickly insects, a million years old
and brown hair in like tiny ***** of yarn.
Some parts of a person can belong to another.

This was not their cornflower-eyes
but an ability to bear child from straight ***
female parts tangled like herbs and stars.