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.
I sit alone watching each sun ray cut through the window to get to my skin, Waiting Light at last Darkness just a memory Parts
Bring us together Tomfoolery and all Leave behind walls They crowd us too much Bring us together Late into night Stories and stories Giggle out
Like vultures to a corpse, these strings circle above: grabbing at a limb, a string of hair, a piece of clothing. Long, curvy claws strike: