Laura Jane Lee

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my body was always supposing

the year my uterus went haywire
i was finally happy and wanted to forgive
the bleeding that would not stop.
i thought it only a minor tragedy –
my body was always supposing.
i close my eyes, briefly consider the notion that
some crooning synonym of danger could come in anytime
with news to split life as i know it open like a geode.
like when my parents suddenly ask to call:
this thing could either be a how’s it going? or disaster.
i mean, what do i know, right?
that my body would sabotage me –
it seems unkind, but not incorrigible?
perhaps i should have listened to its keening after all –
it seems unkind, but not incorrigible
that my body would sabotage me –
i mean, what do i know, right?
this thing could either be a how’s it going? or disaster.
like when my parents suddenly ask to call,
with news to split life as i know it open like a geode.
some crooning synonym of danger could come in. anytime.
i close my eyes, briefly consider the notion that
my body was always supposing.
i thought it only a minor tragedy,
the bleeding that would not stop.
i was finally happy and wanted to forgive
the year my uterus went haywire

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LAURA JANE LEE is a Hong Kong-born, Singapore-based poet. She is a winner of the Sir Roger Newdigate Prize, and was shortlisted for the Queen Mary Wasafiri New Writing Prize. Her pamphlet, flinch & air, was published with Out-Spoken Press in 2021.