lay on her side, half curled over. Wanting to excavate her
abdomen. That dullachingpull. A tightness, and yet, a hand
over stomach caught only slack loose skin.
eardrum traveling to ventricles, she heardfelt, instinctively,
the settling into less than what she'd fought against hoping
for. The pain starts where the line stops.
okay, she told herself. It's really okay.
and now, and still the capacity. She listens with the line
of pain curled over in her mouth like a marble that won't
go down her gullet, that she refuses to spit out. Happy as
a clam, maybe saliva and time makes pearls.
in a teacup, swallow.
Krystin Low, Australia; picture: Dorothee Lang, Germany)