Mother's Day

Come out God-Damn it! Come out.

I’m screaming in my head (I hope)

While the big white angel nurse jumps on top of me.

Come out God-Damn it! Come out (did she say that or am I still in my head?)

It’s quiet at last, all the urgency and blood is a vacuum.

I hear myself say outloud- this time, I’m sure,

“Is she dead?”

Stillness, palatable enough to hear myself swallow

As black and lifeless resuscitates.

And blue creeps up from the toes.

an abrupt, furious cry rattles the instruments against the silver pan

I hear him say, “Dead babies don’t cry.”

Fucking music to my ears.