| Arsenic Lobster poetry journal |
Issue Thirty-two Summer 2013 |
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| At First, the Baby Kate Magnolia Glasgow I climb up the Osage orange tree. I am plucked. Put into a womb. Fetuses are not able to feel pain this early. I look below, and a jaguar is stalking the tree, waiting for me to fall into his fangs. My daughter, she is on his shoulders, laughing and clapping her hands. Two panthers come into the tree and rip me from my embryo, disfiguring my face. I do not scream in pain. But I want my mother to come and save me, because I am not responding. When you find me crumpled on the ground, all I can do is ask if I am dead yet. I see sharp claw marks all over my small body. I am not scared enough to cry. Couldn’t you just love me? I grab your collar with the one strong wrist I have left. The EMT says your arm is broken. We have to go to the hospital. |
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