By Katelynn Paluch 

it is spring storm april
there is blue lagoon on my belly and resignation in my eyes.
pressure- cold cold black and white static, clicking keys
“most people don’t get to my room until they’re pregnant”
she smiles, “lucky you!”

it is flower daze april
there is blue slushie on my belly,
styrofoam back in my room mocking me with sugary sips
“don’t move” she rasps,
harsh words for young ears
it is 2 AM with sticky tears

it is premonition april
with puzzled personnel and guessing games 5 years too late
“surgery”, she reports
“if the pain doesn’t resolve like it should”
the pain doesn’t resolve like it should

it is new day dawn april
with naproxen overdoses and limited ROM
it is white coat april
undiagnosed balloons populating abdominal cavity crevasses
she writes “it should be uncomfortable, no pain”
i spasm in and out of dropped dagger pang

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