But why will you refuse to be occupied with child?
Waiting again. The third time today. (At this rate, we'll have to include pregnancy tests in our monthly budget.) We're tapping, tapping, tapping anything that lacks the power to protest. The result: I am still empty.
We insult the test stick, and later, during a breathy conversation held while dancing in someone else's living room, decide to continue trying. To "keep trucking," as we said then.
Next episode: a bloody show. Not the third-trimester kind-- the one that makes us weep.
We curse my womb. You curse my womb.
I am uninhabitable. There will be no existence within me. I will never achieve a confirmation for my own.
I will continue to mark test sticks like an alpha male marks his territory.
Why did you leave us? My womb is empty. My life is empty. My arms are empty. Why is this necessary? I count down the days as though I knew when I would see you (sickeningly similar to counting down days until my due date--- your due date). Come back to me, please, come back to me.
Author notes
Ok so this isn't exactly about death.
I'm trying to get pregnant, ASAP.
I had a child in October, and then he died in February.
www.dontfa.de for pictures.
What was once a desire to get pregnant is now a desperation to get pregnant.
So. This piece is inspired by death, and about a fear of infertility.
A contest entry
- Prose Party by Faithbound.
900 points, ended May 21, 2 entries
Bronze trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
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on looking at your page... i cannot even imagine the grief of what you have been through. truly, it is remarkable you are able to still write, and in a simplistically beautiful way. i don't know what else to say except that i hope for you that are able to have another child
cassidy
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