I was as round as a meal,
as pregnant as a pause,
a hen in the chicken coop
tending to my eggs.
Our friends outside
circled around the picnic
and my blood drained out in clumps.
The fibrous exodus
of a hoped-for future
inscribed farewells
on the surface of the water.
I sealed my heart to slow the flood
And returned to the party, a tomb.

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