The Back Room of Memory with a nod to George Bilgere for the title You pushed your way out five weeks early, fast labor I wasn’t ready Hadn’t met your doctor yet —the meet-and-greet set three weeks hence He shows up now unexpected somber five hours after your birth the only time we had for cuddling— You, trying to latch on while I crooned your bright future When life tumbles inside out upside down a landslide swallows your home or volcanoes spew ash blocking the sun No summer. Like that.
Sounds like The Inner Womb of Memory. I love your credited title and your poetic reflection.
Writing this series of poems has been like that, yes.
Excellent painting.
Thank you, Dwight.
What an experience to go through. Thank you for sharing this beautiful poem <3
Thank you, Moudi! It's been intense writing this series of poems.