Skip to content

Log Out



of every woman I am first.
imagine me falling off a cliff.
imagine me drowning in the tide.
my belly growing big, for what?
no one can tell me what’s going on.
nausea I don’t understand, weeping
for hormones with no name.
prayer with no answer, when before
I looked up and everything was there.
desert instead of garden, a green twig
bending, bending, never snapping, and
I am in labor forever. no midwife, no mother,
no sister, no friend. I say goodbye to adam
because I’m sure that I will die. this is mine
alone. I remember the curse, it made no sense.
no knowledge could prepare me for this.
it is not pain, it’s the end of the world. I walk
through it, screaming, to find somewhere new.



Amy Bornman is a poet and artist living in Pittsburgh. Her first book of poetry, There Is a Future (Paraclete), was a winner of Paraclete Press’s inaugural poetry prize.




Image depends on its subscribers and supporters. Join the conversation and make a contribution today.

+ Click here to make a donation.

+ Click here to subscribe to Image.

The Image archive is supported in part by an award from the National Endowment for the Arts.

Receive ImageUpdate, our free weekly newsletter featuring the best from Image and the world of arts & faith

* indicates required