Saturday, May 7, 2011

After the Miscarriage


Every day I study the photo
of the jungle, the limp monkey expressionless

who used to cover her young with kisses
and paralyze them comfortably with some kind

of precious jungle knowing. This time the wild
howl of the mother whose thin arms looped

like ropes around her blinking baby this time
she might really have fallen far from the tree.

Her throaty murmur is now a crescendo
of ache that could be mistaken for ecstasy

except the baby is gone and her eyes
from here look empty.




Alicia Fisher, copyright 2011

1 comment:

Bridget Asher said...

thanks for posting the link to this poem and for sharing it. (mother's day has all kinds of meanings.)