Why does my body vex me so—
my all too eager eggs, jiggling breasts.
What I desired: a flapper’s flat chest.
Instead of liberation, I got fertility
and Harry’s speech about my “responsibility.” 
The only flat thing was Harry’s promise
to pull out in time. Believing a father
of six--insanity. Everyone knows
barbers sell rubbers. Slug ugly,
“like swimming in a twenty-pound
raincoat,” he said. Now I’m the one
to carry twenty pounds around.

Was it asking too much for slim hips, 
bee’s knees, a hip flask in my garter? 
Why me with morning sickness,
sore nipples, a packed bag,
while Harry sits at the head of his table 
eating hash and boiled potatoes
with his family.

Maybe it’s my father’s dandelion seed
in me that ruins everything. I barely remember 
his handsome face. My mother extracted him 
like a weed from our lives, transplanted us 
into another bramble patch.

Little squatter growing in me, you come
from a long tradition of damnation. Once born,
I will abandon you along with everyone else 
Harry and I leave behind. I can’t pretend
to understand destiny, just that I have to break
the arms and legs off every vow made up
to now. Mama says we’re all crazed, going to hell. 
I reckon I’ll meet you there.