RSS Feed

Stillborn

 

I died before birth. My little lungs pleaded for my release. But the umbilical cord loved me too long; wouldn’t let go. I don’t remember much. Not the gagging, gasping. Only the shrieks of my mother. Today she’s a steadfast pillar of guilt. For my birthday she bakes an Angel Food Cake. Places it on my grave. She lights the candles but doesn’t blow them out. It would be a slap to his face. She’s convinced the Santa Anas are my premature breath, and I’m an infant ghost. Full-term breathing haunting her every October.

(Originally published here)

Advertisements

About Daniel Romo

Author of When Kerosene's Involved (Mojave River Press, 2014) and Romancing Gravity (Silver Birch Press, 2013). I'm partial to prose poems. Alliteration. And fragments.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: