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My lab partner Liz got pregnant her first time
the first of us to go all the way.
She left during Lent
after we dissected the frogs and the fetal pig—
its blanched flesh slippery in our gloved hands
its dank smell filling the room.
We gave her a baby shower
at her mom’s apartment.
The baby was big in her arms.
The onesie I’d bought, too small.
We left early, pleading homework.
Promised to visit again, soon.
by Kirsten Pendreigh
Kirsten Pendreigh’s poems appear in places like Arc Poetry, Prairie Fire, subTerrain, CV2, Juniper Poetry, Room Magazine, Sustenance Anthology (Anvil Press) and Another Dysfunctional Cancer Poem Anthology (Mansfield Press). She won the 2019 Pandora’s Collective Poetry Contest.
You can find her on:
Twitter (@kpiependreigh) and http://www.kirstenpendreigh.com
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