Hysteria
Crystal Vega-Huerta The doctors say hysteria, my uterus wandering through the darkened upstairs of my home. It weighs 50 grams and tilts towards my lover, looking him full in the face when his mouth lies between my legs. If I'd been born in this country before last century turned maybe I'd have caught my uterus, would have strangled it as it pulled my hair towards the moon, the sun creeping across the wallpaper during my long rest as leeches suckled my bloody children. Now I, childless, sob & laugh into my clenched fists, clock my love in the nose, and walk the path my uterus wandered when it was last within me. When it hadn't been 50 grams of red muscle on a tray that a nurse took away as I slept, dreaming of how the sun lives at night. |
Crystal Vega-Huerta is a California State University, Long Beach graduate and lives in Southern California. She has previously been published in Poets & Artists and Aviary Review.
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