POST-PARTUM

Cut from me

spliced into its own existence

part of me

has been exorcised.

A tumor

so long in the growing,

removed,

left to live or die

on its own.

I have suffered underneath the blade

by masked men

robbing me of my wealth

my girth

a thing just beneath my heart.

I have been split, rent

ripped and cut

all as penance

for actions I barely enjoyed.

Is it any wonder

I do not appear

particularly pleased?