I still haven't mastered the art of knowing when Magpie Tales prompts are posted, but I have found whenever I get to them, I hit poetic paydirt of some sort.
These words took me by surprise. I figure they must be for someone out there to read, since they certainly weren't following my notions or ideas. As always, I treasure these prompts from Willow at Magpie Tales. Write, people. Write.
The Chameleon
She thinks of vaginal inspection when
She sees the mirror propped up on the bed.
She remembers
the days when she peered inside
to see if her cervix had turned blue.
Rumor had it or a book told her
a blue cervix means
a new life has taken hold inside
that red coated lightbulb on the
other side of this canyon she
explores. She cranes. her
neck a little bit differently
and simultaneously attempts
to spread open the fuzzy curtains
a little bit further while her
insides play peek-a-boo.
She has wished for so long
for this blueness she will do anything
including prop her ass up with pillows
check mucus deny her natural desires
in hopes of having the just right amount
of his male juice at the exact right
amount of time her contribution is
pointed at precisely the right geography
She read every book on pregnancy she could
find to prepare for Labor and Delivery years before
she can even master the art of conception
she concerned with delivering this living object
of conception which is hopefully making
the hiding cervix blue
She lies back on the pillow, attempting to
push those words, those somethings of conception
the mirror gets murky.
the technician used words
like that while she stared
at the ultra sound screen
the one-and-only time her
cervix looked remotely like an ocean
That life that briefly lit the bulb
inside her left before she got to cry
at the sound of the prehistoric heart
tones years before she knew
her mythical cervix was
a chameleon
she folds her knees up toward her
chin and waits, unwilling to continue
her archeological dig for now
