Midwifery

The pre-oedipal gypsy songs. The whir of the prairie. The things for which one never turns one's head. The things that never get a wave. The door that keeps on opening. The vast distance of ten minutes. The cup of coffee—Chaucer is in it. The borderlessness of the great-grandmother. I ask the question. The question is about continuity, about the elephant in the Sioux charge. The honesty with which a word follows another. The small, cold feet in straw.




Poem © Copyright by Jessica Fjeld. All rights reserved. Originally appeared in Invisible Ear. Reprinted with the permission of the author.