The bloody fist in my abdomen
Clenches tight yet again.
Grow life!, it screams.
You could grow life if you wanted to!
Your insides are fertile
And I could play that game, I guess,
I could play-act as an orchard or vineyard
Or an herb garden over the kitchen sink
But my guts are not
A vegetable patch,
And the only life I want to grow
Is the body I hold
When I clutch my sides
And rock myself back and forth,