Untitled Ode to my Uterus

O, to your

Pear-shaped muscles.

O, to your

Inability to grow properly.

I wish I could

Feel bad while I imagine you

Tossed in some medical dumpster somewhere.

No longer feeling

You sticky tissue

Slide down my thigh.

Moving slower than molasses in January

While I try to shower you away.

To shower away

The feel of you

Separating from yourself.

An internal 1-2 punch.

O, to the

Secret you kept.

O, to the

Warm home you once made.

That one,

Of many times,

I didn’t remember my pills.

Luckily, you knew that

We shouldn’t be parents

But you didn’t need

To scream it so loudly.

You didn’t need to tell me.

You especially didn’t need to tell me

While I was at work.

But, thank you,

For showing me how atrocious that job was.

Had you told me sooner,

Who knows where we would be.

I just know that path was paved

With cocaine and alcohol.

O, to how

I no longer have you.

O, how much better I feel.

I do wish

We met on the outside

After my surgeon removed you.

Then I could have told you

To fuck off one last time.