Catheters feel like I’m seven
I know the pattern now
standing in Jean shorts
my mom’s asleep and his hands are rough
and I don’t like this.
they tried to convince me it’s the easiest way
that I would need it.
it burned and hurt and I didn’t want it.
they finally took it out.
Magnesium feels like I’m 20
middle of the night
on my way to learn from my little cousin
that my mom has died
heavy chested with built up pressure.
my head is foggy and nothing feels right.
I’m riding a constant wave of nausea.
it’s meant to stop the birth of my children
to stop my uterus.
and I lie here, twisted, trying to push through it.
there isn’t much light in the unknown.
Monitors strapped to my stomach
holding me down