I Bled Failure

by Robin Bennett
(Kenner, LA, USA)

I loved her for a life time.

Incessant buzzing from-
the alarm clock
buried in my womb
startled everyone.
I heard the hollow ticking,
counting fertility.
Every twenty eight days or so,
I bled failure.

Why do people-
lecture on about
your existence,?
Barren, old women,
hell bent on frightening
young girls about the brief
life of a demon biological clock.
The constant echo caused my
eggs to recoil in fear.

I remember,
growing my third baby-
four blissful months
knee deep in pink and blue.
Until, the man in the white coat
said he could no longer hear a heart beating.

A child died that day.
All I got were awkward mumblings-
of “I’m sorry”
and comfort that felt
somewhat obscene.
Trapped in the ward,
where they put women with
failed and silent incubators.

I left that hospital empty handed,
except for garish get well balloons
and dead flowers.
With no infant swaddled-
in the nook of my arms,
we rode home
with the baby
I now was bleeding out.