Every Poem Has A Winner

Tiny new glands, dotting the areola.
Pale. Sometimes grouped
together. Does nipple play

in the third trimester induce
labor? Miscarriage in the first?
Do the sperm give up faster

when they hit the amniotic sac?
Flintstrike afterimage, expire for me
in the green dark.

Annie showed me a video
of a zinc flash at insemination,
slowed down, static

from a fleece blanket in the winter. Or
lifesavers at a sleepover, lights
off, molars cracking. Nothing breaks

from the generative. Nothing
is destroyed, so what. I hurt you.
I could bear a child.

I could do worse
than that.

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