Edna’s Miscarriage

She sat on the seat,
felt pain like cinderblocks
scrape her innards,
let some of the mess out
of her mouth to splash
the floor.

More, she let spill
into the pink toiet water,
sound like state-fair
ping-pong balls in goldfish cups.

She stood, wobble-kneed,
looked down, thought she
saw an arm, leg in the black
clotted mess. Wept.

The pain ended like punctuation. What is
left are the cuts under her heart
from the cinder block, gashes
in her iron stomach’s wall
that will puss, ooze, take
years to bruise.

Advertisements

Author: April Line Writing

Writing about whatever the f*ck I want.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s