Sinking Ship.(Poem)

 
SINKING SHIP 
 
   She could still see the blood 
   soaking through the thick fabric 
   The red coat like camouflage 
   though the blood's hue was redder. 
 
   As she sat on the cold hard seat, 
   she could feel the warm 
   spread in her thighs. 
   And when she feared 
   it might drip 
   from the back of her chair, 
   she'd raised her hand, 
   stood up and ran out. 
 
   At home she's on a couch 
   that's lined with garbage bags. 
   The blood rising up around her 
   like some kind of sinking ship, 
   watching it make its way 
   up to her elbows, 
   the pool quite deep 
   where the weight of her 
   body sits. 
 
   Her husband paces 
   and clears his throat 
   as their doctor stands in the kitchen 
   tapping a staccato toe. 
 
   A stony silence 
   when their twelve year old daughter 
   comes home from ...