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Without bodily autonomy

April 3, 2018


She can scarf down meals of raw egg and meat

Or “trip” stomach-first onto hydrants in the street.


Her shaking, sweat-drenched fist is held at the ready

To deliver yet another blow to the belly.


Yet worse comes to worst, and with no alternative at her service,

She severs a wire to thrust its metal through her cervix.


The echoes of agony resound in her voice

Because her own conscious body does not have a choice.


She experiences a pop, and the blood starts to flow

Her uterine wall is punctured, but she doesn't know.


She can only lie there, helpless and afraid,

Until at last, her vision begins to fade


As the puddle of scarlet expands ever further—

All to spare the misery of a life she cannot nurture.

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