This is Submission ELEVEN of The Whisky Words. The Whisky Words is a writing project (and a giveaway). The winner has been announced.


Stillborn


there was nothing–no sound
no movement
no hopeone night you were boldly with me,
and the next morning, gone

unexpected and torrential
in its suddenness and cruelty.

i sleep and breathe and walk around
in emptiness
and try to etch you into my skin,
unsure how much longer
the details of your eyelashes
and gaping mouth
and blue fingernails
will stay with me.

the last bits of you
drip from my body,
sweet smelling remnants of your protection…
that failed.

the fullness of my chest
has begun to evaporate,
a sure sign my body’s dream of you
is really giving up.

i move
frantic but paralyzed.
the clocks and calendars have all shattered.

i share a laugh with Father Time,
knowing now what he knows
cannot be explained
to anyone who has not
housed death.

i count my fingers and count my toes.
how can i still have 10 of each?
this walking grave of mine,
no longer a woman’s body.
it has transformed into a shallow coffin,
scarred by an indescribable kind
of maternal violence.

as i bleed the rest of your being
into my underwear,
i pause
in a hopeless kind of hesitation and stillness
trying to will the process to slow down

begging on the bathroom floor,
please don’t leave me, sweet girl

dear god, please don’t leave me.

Stillborn.
– Kathy Gardner (blog)
My Instagram : @myspirals

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