Posted tagged ‘poem about childbirth’

Late Amniotic

July 27, 2013

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Late Amniotic

By this time what she holds is the entire
world, floating not in space but in the slosh
of her, uterine ocean a gyre
that squeezes galaxies into a blood-washed
ball–not all ball–squiggle limbs, globe head–
hers not working well–she remembers
a friend whose wool tights had ballooned, she’s said–
she thought she’d peed (weeping)–as husband tendered
her seeping bulk–that woman–into the car.
She’s still dry as sweat, lights flickering, or lids,
thin as cotton swabbed over belly’s shore-
‘I love you, I love you, I love you–‘ bids
she offers now–all she might ever be–
as she waits on the breaking of that wine dark sea.

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When I am not sure what to write, I tend to go for a sonnet. The form forces decisions, and hopefully, makes a bit of its own music..

This is a new one, still a draft of sorts, that I wrote for my poetics prompt on dVerse Poets Pub about a body or bodies of water.

A few side notes – my computer has overheated so it is possible I will be visiting people through a mobile device that sometimes uses the moniker “outlawyer.”

Secondly, I recently passed my fourth anniversary here at Manicddaily. I have really enjoyed blogging and I know I will continue with it, but life has gotten very stressful of late, and I may need to cut down. (I always say this, and I never do, but I am concerned that the wear and tear shows in the quality of the poems I post.)

Do check in as I’m sure I will be still posting, maybe even tomorrow–there are all these great prompts out there, including one by my friend Hedgewitch on WithRealToads. But after that, I really do intend to slow down a bit.

Thanks for your past support and your ongoing friendship.

“Joining Forces” – Truce (Delivered)

November 10, 2012

Joining Forces

There is always the watcher, the one who espies
inside, slyly
analytic, silent
except when snark.
Though for hours, she’d tried
to decamp,
to flee the body that we share (ensnared
by pain), to pull out
of any continguity
with lower torso. Whining
well before the Irish nurse crooned push,
push the baby,
that all
was going wrong–impossible for her, the mistress
of ‘should-be,’ to believe so much pain
not terribly incorrect–

Then, when all did
go wrong, the knell
of my wired belly slowing
to the low thuds of the inconceivably
inexorable–oxygen
wrung from room and umbilical cord and only
in those seconds after life and flesh hardened beyond
what could be borne, unleashing, briefly, the
flutter of caught bird’s heart–
push push push push
now–

Straddling contractions-1-2-3-
they–LIFT– maneuvered us urgently
into the OR–push
push push push–
while she, peering through face-clasped hands,
crouched in the ceiling corner
of my brain’s buzzing
flourescents–

Overhead, masks aimed metal shells
of high-tubed light–I grabbed her by hunched–
you’ve got to–
just this once–
push push push push–
and she–
and she–
and she–
gave me
our all.

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Here’s a reading of the poem, which is the true story of the birth of my first child.

As a “process note,” the wired belly refers to the fetal monitor which conveys the sounds of the baby’s heartbeat (all those thuds and flutters.)  Contractions make the pregnant stomach unbelievably hard.  Tangled cord can cut off  O2.

I wrote the poem for my prompt of “truce” for dVerse Poets Pub, a community of wonderful poets, which I am hosting today.  Check it out!  I am also linking to Emily Wieranga’s Imperfect Prose (about childbirth).  

And also, my books!  Poetry, GOING ON SOMEWHERE, (by Karin Gustafson, illustrated by Diana Barco). 1 Mississippi -counting book for lovers of rivers, light and pachyderms, orNose Dive. Nose Dive is available on Kindle for just 99 cents! Nose Dive really is very funny and light hearted, and 1 Mississippi is a lot of fun for little teeny kids.