She took an old man for $150,000.
Life owed her that money.
God owed her. She gave birth to blood
and children, each time, a clear sack
with the baby floating in it.
The last one stayed 7 months in the womb
before the rhythmic contractions.
She couldn’t flush her baby down the toilet.
It was almost the size of her hand.
Good Christian, she continued
going to Church every Sunday,
watched baptisms, young children
dunked in water. Every month she got together
with a circle of women, knitting shrouds
for miscarriages. They were tiny but
a little human person without a heartbeat:
eyes, mouth with tongue, fingers, and toes.
Priscilla Lee