sitting by the putrid lilies 
i sit with eyes bubbled squinted 
almost shut 

taking in the shutter of his sorrow as he sees me peer down left 
and lift 

He has just walked out the door. I hope 
he forgets about me for the day. The left sideways glance, the wavering base, the unforgiving mention of quitting of cowering. My tail tucked. I looked at him pleading. 

give me The hour to recoup this tragedy of woman. in a seel tight room I chip walls and edges and creases searching for the wind that could wake me possibly propel me forward toward these two months.

i want a baby 
but i don't want i to have it as i am now 

i dont feel twenty-one or able to 


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