Miracle
I almost killed him.
A worthless pancreas
Sent sugars into his cells.
Dr. Cheng said,
Shots in the belly
Will save you.
And, him?
I asked.
A miscarriage waiting . . .
Were his words of condolence.
So, I waited.
Absently
As I stabbed my stomach
With anti-sweetener.
I waited.
For the black blood,
For the cramps,
And the water on my legs.
But instead,
I grew.
Filled like a syringe
As his gray portrait
Lit the ultrasound.
Until he was ready.
And they sliced me, like an orange.
Pulled him from my center.
And he screamed.