Poem 6 of 30

The uterus

is a martial artist.

It has a throat for

arms

and

hands

that end

in tassels of thread like fingers.

Nimble and swift,

it plucks

a tender egg

and swallows it whole

for safe keeping.

All of this happens in water.

At this age,

I choose to believe

that I chose to be here.

© 2018 by Miya Upshur Williams

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