The Storm Inside
A storm raged the night she miscarried.
She sat in her parlor,
did her best to stay calm
but the weather wanted none
of her comfortable chair,
soft blanket, favorite sit-com.
The sky bellowed.
Its gray fingers fired bolts of fire.
And the clouds gave way
like her uterus.
Ran fell hard
and blood did too.
Through that jagged night,
an ambulance dashed madly
with its sirens aflame –
too late for the child
but on time for the squall.
And for the woman
curled up on the floor
like a puddle of flesh.
Her husband stood over her
as helpless as an umbrella
in hurricane wind.
A stranger knelt down
beside her stricken body.
He told her softly
what she already knew loudly.