Delivery
By Maggie Dietz
1. Waking
First the low drone of
uilleann pipes, the river
of the spine just barely
quivering: the froth
on a half-drunk pint
of Guiness shifting
as the bellow breathes.
2. Waiting
A pressure sprouting
in the back—the joke
I told about having
eaten a pumpkin seed
to astonish the moon-
faced toddler gawping
at my beach ball belly
in the grocery line.
3. Pitocin
What the hell is this
no one said chaos I
can't find the cerulean
beach, the sun- rayed
trail through rain-cooled
woods can't find your
face the soft flamenco
music hurts I
hate it you
turn off
it now
4. Lidocaine
Flying bullets, bats,
then, finally, birds.
Swallows sky-diving
for mosquitos above
the quiet reservoir
at dusk. Iridescent
synchronicity, twisting
together as if on
strings. You must
listen hard to hear
the soft applause of
(closed in unison)
a thousand wings.
5. Parturition
Hosannas in the skull
halls: I see as if from
above a body brought
to its knees, every one
of its live cells singing
Hosanna for "we praise
you" and "please save
us" as being trains its
way into the lighted
room, the ravaged world.
Copyright Credit: Maggie Dietz, "Delivery" from That Kind of Happy. Copyright © 2016 by The University of Chicago. Reprinted by permission of The University of Chicago Press.
Source: That Kind of Happy (The University of Chicago Press, 2016)