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My belly puffs like froth from pot
of elaichi chai forgotten. Chunky ginger
burning brown, I spill out of my denim.

He wants to play, his calls are nails
run down on chalk *scrape*. I can’t escape.

I see the way you see
me (is lazy a euphemism?) my
tears crow shit on fresh pressed shirt –
random, unwelcome.

I slapped him with my eyes why
can I not die on ticklish thighs?

Wretched uterus knead yourself, cramp
me till I bleed. Bleed to stop
the flood from top, to mourn
the egg you bore and quietly
dropped.

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