- Author: nichrysalis
- Poem Title: Comes in Waves v4
Comes in Waves
I heard raised
tones in phone calls,
   the dregs of anxiety trawling,
   goosebumps from unknowing,
the unraveling of family
group chats:
   just so you know,
   here’s what’s going on.
She’s dressed down
in hospital gossamer,
   back open, skin peeking out
   like life emerging from
a cocooned gown
before the body of mother
   and unborn child could rest
   together, endebted in utero.
When the birth
of a butterfly
   is the emergence of
   an arachnid from a chrysalis.
When she’s desiccated
by medical intervention
   and the still body desecrated
   by the state sans bereavement
because what’s conceived
of must be laid to ash.
   Pastor says it’s just gospel,
   officer says mandated reporter,
doctor says it’s the legislation,she
says she needs for a moment.
   Despondent and docile,
   her face pale as fossil
as the impregnable creep
of embering amber ignites
   what remains of who
   could have been.
Grief is a luxury only
awarded to those who
   can have a tacit urn on their
   kitchen table the next morning
without nausea dredging
up derelict.
   Even the moon
   can’t tell the tide
where the depths end
   and wreckage begins.