by Ian Mullins
A green door that'salways locked
swings wide this morning;
maybe the storm-wind waving up
from the river slapped it open
with a palm of hail,
or maybe a pregnant homeless girl
realizing her time had come
to start being real
in a whole new way
kicked the door open
with all her baby's strength
and there amongst the barbells and the ropes
poured blood and baby
out of her body
into the middle of a twelve-round ring,
screaming aloud
she will never be alone again.
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