Time in a pandemic is strange to say the least. This is especially the case as we come up on a year of social distancing and masking and hoping for vaccine that appears to finally be here.
This poem is a special one to me as it examines my physical body in a way that I don’t normally address in my poetry. It could be said that birth is a momentous and awe inspiring experience. It could be true that you look back on the birth of your child or children as a spiritual time. It could be said that you found it rejuvenating.
I think what could definitely be said, no matter what your experience may have been, is that is also traumatic. There’s no way around that trauma and that’s the idea this particular poem grapples with. I’m thankful to Fish Barrel Review for publishing it.
I became interested in visual poetry a few years ago and started playing around with some of my own work. I actually had a dream about this poem and this was the image I remembered when I woke up. A large, sprawling forsythia bush with the bones of all our beloveds buried beneath. I’m thrilled to have it up at Dream Pop with so many other great pieces.
I have a new essay up at Thimble Literary Magazine. It’s about the little pond I built in my backyard after my grandfather died and how I found comfort in the midst of my grief. It’s a beautiful issue and I’d encourage you to check it out.