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

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