Squeezed Out

You’re primed for that final dive

towards the light; but my heart

 

is misbehaving  – racing yours

in misplaced sympathy.

 

We move from home

to hospital:

 

“Blue light,” says the midwife,

“Blue light, please.”

 

And it’s only afterwards

I understand I could have died:

 

that my body, primed to push,

could have pushed too hard:

 

my heart bursting into her hands

with the eagerness of birth.

 

Would she have caught it,

wrapped it in a blanket,

 

handed it to your father

to take home – your cot-twin,

 

wheezing its leaky refrain

 to your new breaths?

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

Related entries

The Woman Who

This peom is about a woman in my life, who is suppose to be there for me but is not.

IdEgo

Dreams, desires, id and ego.

IdEgo

Dreams, desires, id and ego.

Drought

This poem is about our failure to feel fulfilled by our constant consumption of life.

Untold Secret of the Sky

Read it and find out.