Estimated Losses by Aleathia Drehmer

On the brink of death
laden with possibility’s
name — life — something
coveted and created,
always chasing after
10 fingers
10 toes
1 smile
at
any cost.

She looks at me,
her face ashen with worry
that only comes on the
coattails of a dying life,
and tells me she doesn’t
feel so well.

I try to hide my knowledge
from her, this knowing that
her belly is rising with blood
and faded dreams of motherhood,
now holding on by threads.

My hand touches hers
understanding the chances
we’ll take for sweet replications
of our love.




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[first read in her chapbook You Find Me Everywhere; used with permission of Propaganda Press]