by Shelby Thomas

I’m getting a metal T stuck in my uterus
Tomorrow or the next day
Because of that asshole
Who walks out when things get

And how tough do I have to be
For a clamp on my cervix and a month of

“I just want to give you
Wine, and candle light, and bubble baths. . .

But it’s all bullshit.”

Or it is too hard.
And he, too weak to
Spits excuses in my drunken face.

But that was me,
Forcing myself to love a man I didn’t respect
Because I was scared to be alone.

And where does that get you?
You are alone now,
And heartbroken,
And disgusting.

He didn’t even fix the bed.

Shelby is an unemployed poet philosopher writing out of the Maine woods.