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Spitting Blood-Soaked Cotton
Spitting blood-soaked cotton from the passenger window of her car.
Shopping for tomato bisque, cans of soup, ice cream cake on sale.
A picture in black and white, not you entirely, but you complete.
A girl with a beehive smile gapped teeth.
The fetus does not match the corpse.
There are many stages in between.
She asked me if she had been a good mother.
I was tempted to remind her of the time she punched me at the mall.
I bled all over the Christmas gift.
Anger gives you cancer.
We live a different life in its cell.
There is no cooling beneath hot trees, no shame, no blame, nor error.
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