Rhonda Raven

All I Won't Have

It stops with me.
You see
I will have
no babies.
No stolen time
while the little one sleeps.
No heartbeat inside
my big stomach.
No purple belly button
to save in an envelope
along with lost teeth
and threads
of baby blond hair.
No nights
to be up
followed by days
of wearing a white flag
saying how
I would sacrifice
for just one
night's sleep.
No stretch marks
on my smooth stomach.
No milk
to be made.
I don't have to be
a role model -
swearing off cigarettes
and saying you should
never lie.
Not me.
I will never be
anyone's
goddamned mother.

Prize Fighter

It was less than a week ago when
I pushed my fingers into my ears
as far as they would go.
That night the moon was full
like a moon should be.
I felt satisfied.
I was so alive.

I remember I had been lying down
but when I got up and walked
I was off the ground.
I went out under that full moon
and punched the air and spun around
and punched and threw myself at nothing.
I boxed black shadows until I beat every one
and could barely breathe.

When I went to lay back down
I actually laughed out loud
and it looked to me like the moon yawned
and I wondered how long I could go on winning.

Rhonda Raven is poet and short story writer. When she is not writing, she works for a life insurance brokerage. She has a B.A. in English from Montclair State University and lives in Scotch Plains, NJ.