six girls in all, we are in limbo
a hell that says, take these two pills and
put them in your cheeks, they will soften
your cervix and make you bleed
the girl ahead of me, the one that
went to my high school
has two dead ones in her gut and jen
says, maybe yours doesn't have a heartbeat,
wouldn't that make you feel better?
butterflies stuck in my arms, my belly
the world turned up
the doctor comments on the singer playing
on the radio and puts his
hands between my thighs
my veins are thick with
my head is thick with
my mouth is thick with
the hose is thick with
i hiss through my teeth. my fists are squeezed.
maybe they are ripping me apart. a pop. a sound
like at the dentist, sucking up your spit so
you don't choke. i am whimpering.
sit up, my head is thick with
a big green room filled with recliners
sit down, veins are thick with
they cover me with a warm, white blanket. i cry behind my hair.
gingerale. white pill. agony. cookies.
from the other room there is a
cry of surprise, a glass shatter
the middle aged woman they didn't
finish with sits down. she has
three already and at just eight weeks
maybe this is an act of god.