Chindi in My Womb

You were lifted through a hole

in the wall of my womb

seconds too late, and now

your ghost lingers inside me.

The doctors say I can have other children,

they say they have repaired my fractured womb.

But what do these white men know?

Surely there could have been no evil in you,

so tiny, so pure.  But your tiny eyes closed

without ever greeting the dawn,

and my breasts still swell with milk

that now feeds only your ghost.

My womb is like a hogan with a hole.