From Womb Complications

Screwing up another panel on hospital-grade drugs,
my eyes double-vision. A coliseum. A state.
“This is good,” I cue the picture of the implantation.

I cue the picture of the artificially fertilized eggs.
“This is the baby now, 10 years after,” I cue shot
of child at the compound. “She’s loving it.”

My eyesight blossoms. Blurry. 10 years
I’ve been suffering. With experts and crowds
of people. The agency is a plot. A bog.

-- Heather Cousins

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