Spaying a Pregnant Cat

by Tawnysha Greene

Sprawled
on shiny steel,
arms and legs tied
beneath a faded blue sheet,
her skin is soft and shaven.

A blade cuts,
repeating the same motion
as layers peel away.
Blood.

Serum.
Shiny clumped fat.
Pincers spread the flesh apart
under the light.
She lies there
open.

First, the left ovary,
the right, then the cervix—
a pop, a snip, a crunch of the clamp
and it’s done,
sealed with a sickle
and waxy thread,
the organ taken,
the wound closed.

Spilled into a red plastic bag
the womb lies,
its pink darkening
blending with purple veins.
It is wet, hard
and alive.
Four bodies moving
in blind spasms
before falling still.

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Tawnysha Greene is a PhD student at the University of Tennessee-Knoxville. Her work has appeared in The 2River View, The Wild Goose Poetry Review, The Tonopah Review, The Arava Review, The Orange Room Review, The Houston Literary Review, The Chaffey Review, and Loose Yarns.

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Back to Issue Five: Fall 2009