Waves of
contractions
crash
into me
crack me
open split
down the middle
I imagine
the eruption: a bulging
sack of slime and blood and
spit.
Do not measure
the breaths the minutes
the hours of clenched
fists curled toes
eyes pinched
shut tight
closed
Just inhale
the saving
Grace
of hot towels
dipped in sweet lavender
Dream of saltwater
orange fruit and sunsets
uncle clyde aunty kaka
mom hetine tamera
baby dukie all of us
that one picnic afternoon
that ordinary sunday
just think
of her
seeing it all
someday
and when she
is pulled
from my body
an army of white
coats shout
an order:
OPEN
YOUR
EYES
And there she is.
Kathy Jetñil-Kijiner (21st century) Marshall Islands
Source: Kathy's blog
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