My baby fell apart, and I could see:

it was an awful vision of surrender.

There was no baby left inside of me.

I had learned not to feel, when suddenly

the baby bent a way I could not bend her—

my baby fell apart. Then I could see

her falling through a loud internal sea

away from the one place I still kept tender.

There was no baby left inside of me.

I fell apart; I couldn't even be

there for the loss. I lost a need to mend her.

My baby fell apart, and I could see

something of her who fell away from me,

but nothing that could make me need to tend her.

There was no baby left inside of me;

I had no baby. I could only see

the need to be apart from her, to end her.

My baby fell apart--and I could see.

There was no baby left inside of me.

From Spells