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What To Expect When You’re Expecting Something Else

I was a cluster of cells, a zygote, a would-be zeitgeist screwed into her

guts. She had a tender mouth, an eye for Maiden's Blush. A borrowed

Dart, just the two of us. There’s always someone who wants to unmanifest

things for unmarried girls. I was conjured with Joe Cocker records and a

raft of Southern Comfort on a Mississippi party barge nearly on the rocks,

I am here to say forgetting is to gone-away like caboose to late-night train.

On the phone the nurse said the clinic was unmarked that she ought to look

for a yellow VW beetle. Once I caught a ladybug in my hands, legs so small

they felt like whispers. Maybe she pulled in, pulled off one mitten. Maybe

she pressed the cigarette lighter, wanting smoke, the burn of something

sure. Hand on a Winston, mind on her baby brother. The size of his pinkie

when he was born. I don’t know what she said when she drove away. My

ears not shelled enough to gather sounds of that world.
Posted 10/07/13
Originally published in UnShod Quills, 2013
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