Cervical Drip

She’s been there thirty some years

playing with skin fusions.

Death barer,

you have no idea.

There’s a dust bowl in your belly

Swirling around your 43 visits to the nurse

One nurse. Small town.

I don’t blame you, baby, I don’t blame you

I’d be with you now if it weren’t for forceps.

Three day cap on tardiness

You’re coming out whether you’re fresh or filthy.

Babies rest for eight? Nine?

I was stained with struck marks for days-

medical dunce cap.

Bloody sludge pockets filled with scabbed scabs

Food service arrives

but you ain’t takin’ the plate.

Instead some eggs drop down

onto the pedestal with finger tips slurring through

that fall quite fast when decay begins

Decay of what just began

Fixed legs that become one

7 ounces a piece

2 gallons of pain per square inch

until the knife works itself in

and carves out the torn matter

3 lbs. 6 oz. Mummy cries now.