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News Of Infertility
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News Of Infertility

Salt in your fields,
your genes like hungry children
who will tug the covers back
most nights, to touch their small
hands, cold to your shoulder,
begging food—

Moon after moon, their insistence
and a hollow womb, two
fallow breasts, your own need
low in your belly—no answer,
though they will wake you
again and again.


Sharecropper poor,
you must reap what you can
from the least of another’s lean,
uneven ground, from soil
more clay than loam
and a hard plow—love
is known to thrive even
in wastelands, among boulders,
in spaces of broken stone.

User Rating: 5,0 / 5 ( 3 votes ) 2

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Comments (2)

An impressive debut posting. Looking forward to reading more.
Very good, Philip. Very poignant.