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My fallopian tubes are drawstrings.
My uterus
nothing more
than a leather pouch
full of marbles.
The ultrasound shows them, the fibroids, growing fat in my womb.
Rotten little aggie.
Lazy cat's eye.
I call quitsies.
But my poor little uterus
has taken on a life of her own.
Like a wolf spider
hauling around
a sack of eggs,
she grows heavier and heavier.
I feel her spindly
spider legs sinking
into my bladder.
She's just about ready to burst.
She needs to understand
that I will not raise her children.
Stupid fat spider,
my body will not be your welfare.
I will not provide for you.
But you're playing keepsies
and there's nothing I can do to stop you.
As you suck and suck and suck
my once fertile lining dry.
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