In the aftermath of a miscarriage..


Tuesday night



You wanted something to drink

The cramps dry out the mouth

Your own tongue tastes vile to you



I had bought a Honey-Melon

On the way home from the Hospital

A melon, the size of a fifteenth week uterus.



I fix the drink and then I deftly part

The rich fruit, the sweet fruit

As cool as you wish, as succulent as you desire.



With a spoon I scoop out the pith and pips

And in that instant I feel what you feel

Gutted, opened, emptied, scraped clean, halved.



Your cramps are those of a uterus desperately searching

For the child that is no longer growing there.

The protest at this indignity racks all of you in pain.



With a slight sigh the last of the soft tissue

Falls into the sink

Ready to become recycled.



You ate the fruit from my hand

And afterwards your lips tasted honey-sweet

The opened flesh, now pitted

Still tasted wonderful.



Poetry by Teddy Donobauer
Read 658 times
Written on 2007-08-02 at 19:07

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Helen Warren
that was a very powerful read - very very nicely expressed. the words you used were perfect... very nicely expressed
2008-07-29



excelent!!! bravo!!!
2008-06-28


Rob Graber
An outstanding write!
2007-08-02



It's not only that the melon image is so fantastically strong and fitting: This poem touches me deeply in more than one way.
You write beautifully.
2007-08-02