"Seated Clowness" (1896) by Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec via the National Gallery of Art
by Stephanie Pritchard
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This feeling is permanent,
like someone else has taken over. Look for a way to escape your own body. Hours have passed. Pushing a baby feels like hot peppers: pressure breath pressure pain I was dying. I could do this every day. You can't tell the difference. A twist against my spine like fire, a forceful push from inside and hours have passed. Abdominal muscles seize, a pause before the rest crawls out of my skin, bone-on-bone as their heads grind through the birth canal. Remember this moment: a shake. a knock. I left my body. I lost my mind. |
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Stephanie received her MFA in Creative Writing with a concentration in Poetry from the Vermont College of Fine Arts. She teaches in the English and Creative Writing department at the State University of New York at Oswego, where she is the recipient of the Provost's Award for Teaching Excellence. Her poetry has appeared in Stone Canoe, Red Rover Magazine, The Awakenings Review, The River, Better Than Starbucks, and others.
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