Swimming in a pool of crimson, she melts,
her pounding pelvis contracts: a 3 month reminder now (no longer monthly thanks to modern science) that these contractions, though similar, will never birth life.
so, she lays back, floats in the pulpy burgundy smoothie
free bleeding, free crying
wraps herself in the warm agony of a burning uterus and gushing grief
because some days you rise up
because some days you melt
pierced and achy.
Sonia Chintha is an Indian American writer who lives in the Washington DC area. She blogs, writes poetry, and fiction. She is also an English teacher who believes that our experiences teach us more than any test. She is the founder and co-editor of Good Little Girls.
Last month N and I went to Reston Town Center to walk around. As soon as we got there, I was hungry so we went
She sees the curves of her body from top to bottom. Some are pleasing, some annoying. Images of beauty scroll past her mirror, they reflect
Baby bulbous bubbles sprout to the surface spiraling to the top and bursting into fizz each eager bulb excitedly bouncing around; they spin together playing