Ode to the Miscarried

i remember your hands gripping,

your weight swinging from my rib cage,

i was your first playground.

.....

i hate to remember your hands ungripping,

your weight unswinging from my rib cage,

i was your first casket.

…..

my breath climbs through my throat

like wind through a funeral organ.

…..

the doctor. the gravedigger.

the forceps. the shovels.