“It Is Not Wise for You to Attempt Pregnancy Again.”

In my moist Womanhood,

I breed Stars.

See my white blue star,

tiny,

miniature,

blazing,

making me sweat.

I’ll name him Malachi,

God’s messenger.

Red and globular,

another star births.

Imperceptible pain.

I cool her in the bottom of my wine glass,

sober on water.

Quasar

pulsar

black star sucking my Satin Dolls

away from me.

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