Some return to self by marking, needle to ink. Tiny stabs, weighty digs
there it is a Black Panther fertile with autonomy.
Splice cells sincere as womb
across the avocado hall and the bathroom, the door, it swings back.
She stands still and plump. Throws up, squats,
tiptoes as if to avoid mud.
She doubles over, flows sharp and he departs like seasonal berries,
beneath the cherry arch of her feet. Her eyes fraught
she seeks the universe but there is man who stares, stunned in white rhyme.
The woman sits upright on the mattress.
Under deep blue covers her hands tremble,
swaddling an unborn body in purple-grey print.
©2013 Star Murray