Because I'm pretty sure when I started this it was supposed to blog my "creative process" (whatever the heck that means), here are my edits from the just posted poem:
I roam the hallways of the internet, rubbing my belly
that aches from anger and coffee
- "Nothing like giving a bitch a good belly rub",
you said, your hands stroking the puppy
you always rubbed the bitches' bellies
when we saw dogs on the street - afterwards, your hands smelled of dog drool
rubbing my belly
like a pregnant woman, knowing that in the morning
I will not feel the future of our relationships slip out between my thighs,
waiting to see
the not-living creature that will slip out from between
for my water to break,
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