The doctor uses a mirror to see
inside me. His speculum yawns
but my mouths clench
and I am disciplined with pain.
An exercise in elision:
Abraham and his blade,
one son offered or the other.
Sarah consoled Hagar consoled Sarah.
Cautious readers account for many truths.
When labor afflicts my abdomen,
they’ll check to see if I’m effaced—
if my cervix is thin enough, is ripe
enough to leak a fresh life.
When a father approaches a mother,
he forgets to check the door,
ajar and hiding a watchful girl
who sees him raise his blade
of a hand, its straight and narrow path.
Who consoled Sarah consoled who?
The wick of tonight’s sandalwood candle
shoulders a flame without flinching.
Memory’s heady drupes split
even as I lurch forward, eyes open.
Leave a Reply