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 –
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