11w, 5d
by Misha Lazzara
lachrymatory bathtub
because tear catchers
I hear are illusions
chimeric, no Victorian
not one filled a bottle
believing when tears evaporated
grief dissolved, bereavement ended
and Pirene never cried into vials
gossamer even in mythology
she became tears
a fountain forever
modern myths of old perfume bottles
make derisory proposals for any mourner
any mother
the term spontaneous abortion
how doctors describe a miscarriage
twice now, prodigious and unplanned
spontaneous abortion(s)
and I do want women to choose, but
I didn’t get a choice as I moaned
into the bathtub blush, later crimson
shades unwanted for months at least
whispers crescendo
and the Algea have heard these sorrows:
I want you, please stay, please stay
You can stay, I want you, I choose
there’s no end to mourning
an un-baby
no one quite sure how to comfort
a mother who laments
the un-born
Perhaps if I waited
for the sanguine waters
to vaporize, evaporate
into nothing
condensation on the glass