After the blood appeared, small spots of uncertainty After the first slice through the fleshy abdomen After pacing, smoking, waiting After the wound widened, the womb exposed After a year of hope, of almost normal After a visit to Florida, to her husband’s brother and his wife, palm-treed roads, sun a helmet, laughter slapped among waves After the doctor again, the body mapped, the body exposed, poisoned with hope After the pills, the vomiting, tiger-clawed, ripped The uncle gets it, a small bag, rolled with clumsy fingers, the smoke inhaled After she coughs, her eyes tear, she bends double, cannot bear weed, air, anything Tinderbox Poetry Journal Vol. 4 Issue 4
Poems by Judy Kaber