by Hollie McNish, winner of the Poetry Society’s Ted Hughes award for new work
I probably won’t die in childbirth
I probably won’t be alone
I probably won’t have a ruptured aorta
I probably won’t break a bone.
I probably won’t be left bleeding
Or my stomach swell jumped on and bruised
I probably won’t have my baby kidnapped
Or rusty knives rupture my womb.