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The Natural Order of Things
by
Nanci Woody

She always was considered tough
arms spread wide when things got rough.
Impotent now, though,
now that anything she does
isn’t enough.
Her child lies pale in a white bed
the needles
the tubes
snaking from his head.
She healthy, he not,
the natural order of things
having gone awry
she puts on a tight smile
that belies
what she fears inside.

--Submitted by nancilee on 2011-04-04.

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