Acrylic, oil pastel, pencil, black and colored...on cardboard.
-A Book About Death, Chapter 2: My Womb-Cathy writes:
womb
I watch the graceful swirl of her being
tucked so inside
(the body fits its parts so neatly)
arms arched holding gentle flare
of egg
You drove me so, you quickened
you twitched with my ecstasy
ecstasy not complete without you
blood and bone and blood
you were my child
and your instincts
basic
driven
became woe
a promise unfilled
a space left empty
