Ian Pike 8 a.m., March 8
- Donna Hilbert
Dear John Letter to My Uterus
A poem by Donna Hilbert
- Dear Uterus,
- We’ve not been formally introduced.
- Oh, well.
- Who wants to meet a lover at a funeral?
- Old cozy blanket, fuzzy mitten, coffee pot
- simmering behind my stomach wall,
- out of sight,
- like my cousins in Oklahoma,
- like my pink angora sweater
- misshapen in a trunk.
- I’ve been happy knowing you’re there.
- Thank you for cooking up my children.
- I forgive you for letting one slip by.
- But lately you’ve become a nuisance —
- a dog that won’t quit licking,
- a too precocious child,
- a lingering house guest.
- Like a sailor on leave,
- you’re a creature of excess.
- I won’t spell it out.
- You know what you’ve been doing.
- There. I feel better. This clears the air.
- Must close, so long now, job well done.
- All things considered, it’s been fun.