Birth


41
in a sterile room
machines,green gowns, medical masks, and gloves
seem to float around me
medication squirts into my spine
my legs are no longer conscious
but I am
waiting
as if from someone else's body he is pulled from my abdomen
tugging against his resistance they retrieve him
he does not want to leave me not knowing that I am his destination
his cry
loud
primitive
angry
not yet human
fills the sterile room
when they hand him to me
swaddled
clean
pink
he tries to peer out of swollen eyes at his destination

Poem Rating:
Click To Rate This Poem!

Continue Rating Poems


Share This Poem