& I Cringe Every Time I Hear the Word ‘Womb’
Megan Neville
To yearn is the sharpest feeling, or is it
to hope? Either way, he fucks as though
he’s trying to climb inside my body. To hide
there like he never wanted to be in his
own in the first place, like he wants
to get back to his mother. I have always
been suspicious of men who cup assured
hands on my belly, willing it to swell with
what’s theirs. I can’t mate in captivity.
My hands sting & itch. With forehead to
glass I remember three floors is enough
to kill you, but eight is survivable if you have
your mother’s flesh to absorb the force.
