The neat house curved like a draining sink

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(poetry diary 39) Posting this in honor of my son’s birth, five years ago today.  I like it because of how much time I spent before my child’s birth wondering what he would be like as a baby, and what he would be like someday as an adult.  As I walked around and he kicked the insides of my super-huge belly I also wondered a lot about reincarnation, and souls, and where his soul might have been (if it was somewhere) before he was conceived, and so on….And when our child was born my husband and I kept wondering, too, what the heck this small creature must have been thinking and feeling within his new world’s strangeness.
All this makes me like this poem’s juxtaposition of adult musings and birth-details.  It’s funny and rather beautiful.
At the Time of My Birth
Oliver De La Paz
I wondered how long I could go on
once the rain had stopped. My nerves
were wedged like wings under a hat.
Corncobs bobbed in boiling water. I kept
a fist in my mouth. I was strident.
The neat house curved like a draining sink.

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