FINDINGS: There is a T1 hypointense, T2 hyperintense lesion within the left anterior pituitary. This measures approximately 6 mm coronal by 5 mm sagittal by 7 mm craniocaudal. 

The imaging room is black,

the screen is shaped like a womb.

In the doctor’s hand a stem

presses pink blood from my breast like milk.

My heart thunders.

A cyst is a type of pit.

In summer, flecks of spit

soar across the blacktop.

In the distance rolls thunder 

as hands plunge into the bowl’s womb.

The ocean foams with milk.

I tie knots with cherry stems. 

The doctor pinches the stem,

explains how the pituitary tumor

swells my breasts with infertile milk.

Only worry if the well runs black. 

I am sick of this womb

and how it thunders.

My hands thunder

against flesh, harden the stem.

My aching womb condenses

my dreams into a pit I spit 

out between my legs, black

rivers, edged in milk. 

I’m curdling with milk,

my right breast thunders.

The pits of my eyes, black.

I’m collecting bluestems

while rain fills stone pitchers

with water pink as wombs.

The white cylinder is a womb,

my robe the color of milk.

On the MRI is a cherry pit.

The machine wails in the key of thunder.
My skull the cherry, my spine the stem.

The tones sing silver and black.

A black highway stems through my body.

Cells split like a womb, render mine infertile.

I swallow pills with milk to calm the thunder.