Haunt

She is haunted by a laugh

She’s never heard

And never going to

Her sheets still reek of baby flesh

Meshed with alcohol scented pillow covers

From a broken husband’s daily endeavors

He thinks, why him?

She thinks, why them?

She fiddles with a pacifier

While she tries her best to

Pacify her desire to cast blame

Feeling shame to think that the baby’s home

Was no longer hospitable

Its tenant has been evicted

Conflicted, she struggles to find a reason

To try again

“Sometimes these things happen. It’s no one’s fault”

But something must explain the direct assault

On anticipated motherhood

She stood upright while

The contents of a

Future lawyer, doctor, bank teller, writer

Emptied on her floor

She gripped her stomach in agony

Knowing there wouldn’t be a small human in her anymore

After the second, and third time of this

She had it in her mind that motherhood

Was nothing but a hopeless wish

She was unfit to be called woman

What’s defined her is poured out of the womb and

She is broken.

She’s spoken to specialists and all the answers were the same

Something about her uterus just wasn’t right

And rather than fight, her husband sought progeny in other ways

Spending his days with another who had the capability

To become a mother

Alexis Garcia (she/her) is a queer Hispanic writer from New York, NY. She graduated from Manhattanville College in 2017, where she studied Creative Writing and Criminal Law. Since then, a few of her poems have been published in the anthologies UNITED: Volume RED and UNITED: Volume HONEY with Beautiful Minds Unite LLC and Upon Arrival: Threshold with Eber & Wein Publishing. Most recently, she has had more of her poems accepted for publication in Orange Blush Zine, Mixed Mag, along with other publications.





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