curve up in a smile, and syringe-clad
fingers do not shake, knowing their job
oh too well. she is a savior dressed in
simmering unicorn-flesh, still wet with
blood and the deflated bladders of dreams.
hooked fingertips reach in the spaghetti-mess
of egg and semen united in an almost-baby, and
she thinks to herself that the feeling of the jellied
fetal flesh sinking beneath her nails and
between her teeth just may be the
best fucking feeling in the universe.
a harpy-mother cries out in rejoice as another
helpless creature is pulled from her womb.
caught between an incisor and a canine, one
black eye blinks and sheds a tear for the life it
never had, before it is swallowed into
the oblivion of its murder's stomach.
[you look so beautiful
at every abortion you