Stories tagged birth


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The afternoon I was born, my father brought my two older brothers and my sister to the hospital with him, but back then, they wouldn’t let children in to visit. My father and siblings all stood on the grass below my mother’s room and called up to her.

Look No Further

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Happy people are never lonely. That’s what he said. Casey laughed, abruptly stopped, and glanced over at her summertime friend Joy who sat on the floor, fingering an ancient brass candelabrum. The candlelight flashed across her freckled young face—

Woman Gives Birth At Cafe, Refuses To Leave Until Latte Finished

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There was a man crying, walking his dog and a woman drove by on a flat tire They brought coffee to the tables in large glasses on white saucers There’d be long silver spoons with which to stir in strong

Stretch Marks

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Stretch marks part my heart, stretch marks part my body.

Nativity in Tahiti: Paul Gauguin

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The young girl has given up, and lies sprawled out upon the yellow cover on the bed, with her blue sarong wrapped loosely around her body. One arm lay back up above her head, where it was thrown during the exertion of birth. Her yellow halo surr

what I wanted in 1968

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To be one with she who gave birth to put everything in my mouth her breast the dirt grass my finger blanket soft.

The Juniper Days – Part III

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I flew to Madrid. Though, at the time, it felt like standing still. Nothing happened quickly enough the second after I had read that journal entry.


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years later, she won’t go near the trees


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After the daughter leaves, the mother develops a problem with food. There is always too much, or not enough. There is never the right amount of food in the house after the daughter leaves.

Remembering the Future

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I stand in your shower borrow your scents- Peach Caress Soap …

Bullpen Jesus

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I lost my ability to bring the heat. I tried compensating with the logical choices and served up curve balls, screw balls, sliders, sinkers and change ups. I even got tossed out of a game for throwing spitballs. I guess the bulge in my cheek from the gob

Childbed (cenotaph song)

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Those who don’t die, desire, descend. No song aloft arises from my irk. The seeing chieftain, not of sea, nor sand, nor boat, I till nightfall stammer alive, dig boneless trenches against tiding dregs and lathe, hunt, wallow, plow the hours, call in awei

This Can't Be True, But I Remember It

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She calls me by my name. She says I am her daughter.

Greet Death

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where are you now?