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.
