"Never Born" by Laura Schoonover

Friends' bellies grow large, while
I disappear

into this dead sea. I would
trade these red waters

of monthly blood while spreading
my parted legs for a doll

made of rags, tied with twine
to hold in my arms beneath

the moon's tide.
I am

***

disappearing under this empty sky,
where trees lift clouds

as an offering (this is my body,
broken) for you

***

smoke hovers over the empty
seabed (I wash my hands

of it) brittle branches/bones
floating in the fire. It

does not rain; smoke/clouds cradled
in my arms - I

***

scream into the sky, throw
stones at the clouds - (why

have you forsaken
me) echoes

through my empty womb

Bio: Debi Faulkner's work appeared in small Detroit-area publications and in a chapbook, Portraits, before she dropped off the face of the earth for several years. She has recently reappeared in The Netherlands where she resides with her husband and two children. Current work appears or will appear in Flashquake, Braggadocio, The Scriptum, The San Gabriel Valley Poetry Quarterly, Sea Change Journal and Yawp.

Contact Debi Faulkner at debilf@hotmail.com