#7 Anatomy

 

 

 

i woke up this morning

to my boyfriend, naked

and asleep facing me with

his pelvic bones. i'm topless

my round white breasts

like a pond covered in lilies

and gardenias, only i smell

like sex and joints.

i remember how mornings

used to be mine, and i'd turn over

and write three poems in a journal

by my bed. the third one was always

the best.

i miss those poetic mornings, i've been too

depressed to write. i thought

i should take the time

to be honest to myself

since last night

i thought i was being punished for all my sins

i forgot about

i hold my swollen belly in my hands

my stomach throbbing,

hurting inside.

i pretended in a sick way -

what if you were going to die

like this?

he says why you could write

poems like that still

you just don't.

and i thought about me dying

some more --

 

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