two feet on concrete
planted like cactus
needling—
     “please don’t let them **** your baby
     hell awaits you, young lady”

look at me, *****.
is my belly a moon?
is there life in my womb?
no—my body’s a tomb.

god killed my children.
he slaughtered my daughters,
he plundered my sons;
i wonder what water
my wine has become?

you hit the street
with statistics on heartbeats
while dead eggs and the dregs of unformed arms and legs
rot in my core.

hey, lady—
i wonder what special hell
god’s destined for.