Miscarriage
I knocked into the corners
of the hallway
a narrow envelope
a slipping pit
I birthed a milky clump,
a marble with fur
No judge sat to tell me
that I would pass up daytime
to leap from night to night
The dead,
arm in arm,
carry me by the throat
Each year
the children use me
as a stepping stone
4 replies on “Miscarriage”
“A marble with fur”…the last stanza…amazing.
I agree, that last stanza is amazing.
Dear Kr is Underwood and Ann R–
Thank you for your comments. It’s great to know readers are responding to my poem. It is a thrill to see it published here.
Thanks, Katherine
tight, each word counts for something