Poetry by Lauren Scharhag

James Blann CC



Bug Out

As we pack up and move for
for the 10th time,
I reflect on all the couches
we've gone through,
the cushions we've lolled on,
where I rested my head
on your shoulder
and we laughed together
to something on TV,
or sat apart,
not looking at each other,
anger sealing our throats.
All the furniture
bought and unloaded:
the throw pillows,
the book cases.
This is the price
of a nomadic lifestyle:
of never being satisfied
with where you are,
of being a survivor.
At least half those moves
were out of necessity,
jobs taken and quit,
friends made and lost,
plans planned and God
doubled over,
having Himself
a real belly-laugh.
Every time, we say,
This will be the last time.
So far, every time,
we’ve been wrong.




Low

It is a testament
to the universe's cruelty
that a woman who underwent
a hysterectomy at age 26
now has a belly
as round as a melon.
No one warned her
about this rearrangement,
a sort of visceral musical chairs:
Your intestines hang low now,
the doctor says.
You’ll never have a flat stomach again.
Adhesions snake
their insidious loops,
tugging, squeezing,
long nights clutching
a heating pad.
The pain of absence.
The pain of being filled.
The pains did not go away.
They're just different now,
along with going through life
looking perpetually pregnant,
even though she is
curved
and empty
as a rind.


​
Lauren Scharhag is an award-winning writer of fiction and poetry. She is the author of Under Julia, The Ice Dragon, The Winter Prince, West Side Girl & Other Poems, and the co-author of The Order of the Four Sons series. Her poems and short stories have appeared in over eighty journals and anthologies, including Into the Void, The American Journal of Poetry, Gambling the Aisle and Glass: A Journal of Poetry. She lives in Kansas City, MO. To learn more about her work, visit: www.laurenscharhag.blogspot.com