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.
