by Kathleen Richardson

Created on: July 02, 2010

Moments of absolute quiet alarm me

Almost as much as ascending screams of labor.

Woman in the room next to mine, the nurses scoff,

Has had three babies, two given away, one to go.

She makes the most noise and has made the same clatter

Each of three times on their floor.

I bite my tongue, figuratively speaking, of course.

I who am quiet at all times, wants to add to the din

Wants to beg-aloud, loudly:

Rip this child from my loins now, promptly,

Don’t make me wait, don’t let me suffer any more.

They knock me out and forceps do the job.

Moments of absolute quiet still alarm me

Once we settle at home - me, my baby

And the man who made my dreams come true.

Curses on him, I now say

As my baby boy, agony in his every shriek,

Controls intensity of copious thuds in my head.

I bite my tongue, figuratively speaking, of course.

I who am quiet at all times, wants to add to the din

Wants to beg-aloud, loudly:

Your pain is my pain and I continue to spin

In circles hanging tight to you

So you won’t crash into the wall.

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