Poems
The Story of Wombs
Mine grew while I was growing in someone else’s. Miraculous that two fleshy ducts developed, fused, bloomed into one mysterious cavity I’ll never see, a place within me able to weave beings. And if someone would be born without a womb— you might think they skipped that bleeding bit. But they will still bleed. They will still feel the slick of opportunity slip away. They will ache, double over with hurt radiating from deep within the gut. And they’ll be surprised by it. We’re all surprised by it. For we all grew in the warm hope the womb promised: protection, plenty, peace… only to be released into a world that didn’t accede.
Cheryl Dyer is a poet, visual artist, and calligrapher residing in Omaha, NE where she lives with her partner as a new empty-nester. She recently graduated with an MFA in Creative Writing from the University of Nebraska in Omaha.