Through a gape in the curtains 

A shard of morning light 

slices my bloated belly in two

How ironic, I think

A body divided 

The inner, unwanted

The outer, a pathetic addict

And they tell me

MY baby will be born a junkie 

Assuming it doesn't O.D. 

inside its little toxic den first…

There's dust motes twinkling 

in the shard's overflow:

Dead skin can...

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