—MOTHER YOU HAD ME, BUT I NEVER HAD YOU

 

 

In the Womb

 

I’d met the

dead girl once

in the womb

the two us absorbed

and mirrored

with fluid

assuming we would both

float out safely

but assumptions are

their own kind of weather

turning on you

like a sudden storm

blink-fast

scouring the sky

with dreadful colors

until it’s you

who strangles each cloud

desperate for a sip

with no leftover air