Four Years Ago

Written four years later, this is about the morning I miscarried my daughter.

It's not even 8am
the bathroom is cool,
but soon it'll heat up-
be stiflingly hot.

I'm opening yet another test
and my hands shake
with excitement.

I've known for weeks-
swollen, tender breasts? check.
that down-low hardness? check.
morning sickness? double check.
hormones? check.

I could go on.

My period isn't late;
last month
it totally skipped the rounds.

But this morning,
this morning the packet twists in the air,
flutters to the floor
as I am flooded-
the ache of you
falling away from me.

Author's Note

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