Whatever Monster
       

I’m sad for what our bodies never made,
for the days we rose, fully rested, from sleep
no childish thing had interrupted. What’s made
our lives a stalled biology doesn’t sleep;
it clamors in the womb, scaring children.
Our nightstand spills with useless cures we’ve tried.
Whatever monster turns our would-be children
to blood each month cannot be stopped (we’ve tried).

On lusty nights let’s cinch ourselves together,
knowing the halves we have to put together
won’t come to something we can love together.
And when we feel alone, let’s face each other
and do the things we could only do together,
like say we’re happy to convince each other.

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Copyright © 2014 Ash Bowen All rights reserved
from The Even Years of Marriage
Dream Horse Press
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission