Withholding Evidence

Like a probing jealous lover,
x-rays drill through my pelvis.

I hold my breath,
withholding pictures
of you taking root in me,
you and me in every conceivable way.

In a second it finds me innocent,
shows me smug evidence,
black-and-white absolute:
nothing but held-together bones,
not even touching in spaces
that are a hollow cry.

I smile a quiet victory,
knowing it isn’t always so.

by Rebecca Flores