Only one layer of skin

stands between her and destitution.

Having risked and lost,

over and over,

cyclical impotence,

can she proffer seed

to one whose will could crush the offering?

Heart bleeds sterility,

tosses back her love

aborted;

 womb withers and writhes in its laborious pursuit

and gives birth to stillborn hopes.

All she wanted was to be loved in return –

but contractions breed ignorance,

and impregnation defies dreams.

Arms remain empty,

gestation begets ripening rage.

Hers was impotent implantation;

her love will only deliver

the wind…