In Consegna

A forearm on my stomach,

“just a little cut”

no way to stand up

no way to turn around

no way to try a different position; just sit down.

a mask on my face, darkness.

I wake up and it’s time to go.

A glance at the placenta on the table

is the only way I know.

no one came by after to tell me why

or what happened.

The most important experience of my life,

so much about it I’ll never know.

no photos.

instead,

I hope you have someone coming to stay with you

instead,

che fatica!

instead,

just wait until next time, you’ll rip open again

I wanted to be in the water

so no one could touch me.

instead my worst fears came true.

I was told, we don’t do that here.

I guess now we can say they do.