The Reason

Kathleen Brunelle

Three little girls
baby-doll, white-bowed,
egg-nog speckled pearls
knowed another was on the way.
And the doctor just said,
"It's coming Alice. It's coming."
A slender man who softly snores
don't know it's coming,
dreaming of violins
and Christmas dinner.
I am awake.
It is awake.
It crawls in my body.
I love it already.
And I rain blood
between my legs
finger-painting the
smooth cold flesh of
inner thigh
coat hanger steel stole
up and inside.
Get it out. Get it out.
Three little girls sleep.
Husband softly snores.
Laboring hips hit the floor,
leaking life.
Twenty-seven years
Blood-stained sopping
hair caressing the floor
and I am
Christened in a garnet sunset, crooning
a eulogy
a lullaby.

© Kathleen Brunelle

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