“…my estrogen kitchen my black bag of desire” —Lucille Clifton, “Poem to My Uterus” I wanted to see you when they pulled you out,
And what if they, too, were taken away the low notes, the flat notes, the natural sounds? Consonants, vocals, the round O’s I’d miss,
It knows when you intend to starve it, keep it from what it needs, persuade it into danger, when you expose it to pain,