If that cross had a story, what would it be? / Copper wolves devouring my eggs, / or all my daughters raptured to nowhere?
Poetry by Meg Reynolds
I get an IUD wondering what end I’m bringing on.
My uterus has its wine-dark vapors,
and a steady doctor to measure its length,
custom place a rod of Asclepius inside,
and make me barren as a plow.
If that cross had a story, what would it be?
Copper wolves devouring my eggs,
or all my daughters raptured to nowhere?
In the ache, the bloody aftermath of the
examining table I wipe at with a paper blanket,
she writes down 2031, so I’ll remember
when the device will stop working, if the earth
is even around by then, she says, and I think
on the future’s empty sockets, I’m sure I can
find some roadside somebody to yank it out.
She swears, in a pinch, you can do it yourself.
Twelve years hence, I’ll be squatting
on a desert stretch of highway, bent under
a steel horizon to pull it from me like a thief
pulls plumbing from under an abandoned house,
or I’ll leave it,
frail thing, to be borne.
Meg Reynolds is a poet, artist, and teacher living in Burlington, VT. Her work has appeared The Missing Slate, Mid-American Review, Fugue, Sixth Finch, The Offing, Inverted Syntax, and the anthology Monster Verse: Poems Human and Inhuman as well as The Book of Donuts and With You: Withdrawn Poems of the #Metoo Movement. She was recently selected as Fearsome Critter’s Top Hybrid Works Contributor. Her manuscript, Olly Olly Oxen Free, was a semi-finalist for the 2018 Lexi Rudnitsky First Book Prize. Find her on Instagram: megreynolds_poet, Twitter: megreynolds_poetry, and Facebook: Meg Reynolds, as well as her website: https://www.megreynoldspoetry.com/.