grief card 56

---art by Jessica Palomo, prompt by Kyle Nolla, Connecting with the Body

The rite of birth

was smooth enough

if you didn't count

the episiotomy.

My poor cut mother.

Unnoticeable

even later

was my misshapen right

hemisphere.

Ear half-formed-

enough to pass

but not hear,

gravy-boat smile

left-lilted and

half-a-full cup,

hand to smaller

hand in prayer,

right leaning

gait a constant

veer. A testes

enough, per doctor,

to be a father.

God my Father

was by my pierced

right side,

a herniated

birthright:

to want right

at the body's 

letting me go.

My mother who wants

me to smile more,

this sign of the living's

righteousness,

can't not smile

at the most sutured

day, the most

crushed God,

the most right

now we have.