Nest for forty weeks, a swollen finch
eager to spit an 8lb seed into space
bright cold her splayed legs. Groans
I’m no martyr, give me the shot, Ace.
In between vertebra waves of pain
clench the body in lain, contractions,
his urging voice, breath in, breath out
threads through the sterile room
to needle and stitch her tender place.
Sticks and bones rattle in winter’s wind,
a naked breast unlatches milky pearls
to puckered mouth a wet slurp breathes
relief pores from her body in sweat and tears
mark the day of motherhood. Placental glob
sits in a metal bowl, 1pound gone,
32 pounds left to shed. Months
to mourn her hollow uterus, cramps
blue moods, leaky melons; cabbage wraps.
To soothe Post-Partum? No idea on how
with little sleep to wallow, delirious.