Someone Else’s Ovaries
are starring in this silent movie
adrift in an indecipherable soup
the interior of a small triangle
some invisible windshield wipers
have cleared the rain
and now we have view
the left pea pod is asleep
they are craters on the dead
surface of the moon
or maybe they are tiny
mouths of goldfish
breathing in
breathing out
the right pea pod is distant
a smudged comma
a veiled shadow
a vacant hammock
we have been here before
the dim optimism
the silent connecting
of the dots hoping
20 millimeters or
the really really big
black circle
I saw it only twice
once a bulbous cyst
suffocating the rest
the other never realized
she says there will be more
little white pills
rollercoaster moods
needles piercing my hip
waiting and wanting
but if these are my ovaries
I should recognize them
I should be able to shame them
nurture them, make them fertile
because I said so
1 reply on “Someone Else’s Ovaries”
So well said. I can feel the desire and the struggle.