Today’s prompt references Joe Brainard’s I Remember. We were invited to list a series of memories, being concrete, using these details as the “connective tissue” of the poem. I’m tired. I remember being tired a lot. I’m not sure how this will go, but who ever is really sure? Who is in control?
I remember being born.
My twin sister waited while I went first.
Upon exiting my mother’s womb,
I was promptly set aside
because I was fine
and the spotlight was on my sister’s predicament–
breech, slowed progress,
doctor wanted to get the forceps,
my mother said, “HELL NO!”
and pushed her out.
She was blue.
They hustled around her,
making sure she was breathing.
I was cold and sad, crying,
I wanted to go back to the warm place.
I felt alone.
This is how I remember my birth.
To this day, this drama plays out
in our adult lives.
I am always fine,
and the spotlight is always on her predicament,
her struggling while everyone watches
as she gets pushed to the next stage.
Will it always be this way?
Can we be reborn where we are both fine?