Adele Nwankwo
I IMAGINE CHILDBIRTH
as the cyclical blooming of a joycean nightfruit
an unfurling of a pelvis a fracking of the
limbic so that what ccs of joan-of-arc fury
epidural dilation in cms husband’s rattling breath stench of bechamel on
the fat white doctor’s maw more dilation nurse’s strong-but-bony hands
the reassurance while travelling narcotic inward to salem every shout of
encouragement a jeer as i go under in a barrel now
of splinter & pharmacology (not a—witch! just a—would-be—mother!)
to bob back up to wet nap upon forehead peo
ple i know and back down and people i know and love in town hold
pitchforks grind their butt-ends into soil like toothpicks into vul
vitis you’re doing great honey! your mom would be so proud of you
mom who didn’t want me
probably isn’t here (couldn’t
get away from fourth-wife duties) mom
in the crowd with the rest of them pitchfork
swathed in rheum and preordaining judgment w/
whore daughter who never did her no right and
couldn’t keep a guy off her longer
than a jar of scraps could larvae be
better for all if god dragged her to
riverbed bed a river of sweat and
blood blood as breach more ccs of
whoineedwha?ium
mind chattering in the break
down below the crests held down held breath
she’s crowning! calls more-dilation filter’s
witch i am which mother am i to a girl, a healthy
baby girl as i come to surface drafting down air pitchforks still
uneasy it’s a girl given the sorceress given to the daughter never
wanted a girl given to replace a magic that no well-placed trial
could asphyxiate.