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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