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Four live births
one stopping at four months
my father wrapping
the contents in newspaper
to bring downstairs for disposal.
On the final pregnancy
blood clots the size of a fist
the doctor saying I think you’ve lost it
and you—hands cupped
about my heart—refusing to let go.
FROM 'TIDES SHIFTING ACROSS MY SITTING ROOM FLOOR'
Family Census Read by Anne Tannam
00:00 / 01:14
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