Get the Epidural

 

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.

 

 

 

 

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