appealing

The Maynard
Fall 2019

Jaimie Gusman
0:00
 
 

Concurrent Incidents

In this secret
I call the breaking solar
news hour

spun on wheat berries, detergent

the baby coos in the womb.

Mr. Appointment says sit down it’s the primarys!

In another room

it’s no good for Elana.
The cancer eats her spine, strikes her throat
           like a rake.

My phone vibrates

it’s spaghetti, I say
to my daughter
and no Elijah isn’t coming     spilling the wine into my cup
                                                     I forgot to leave the door ajar

expired beet juice,
a dribble of pee
on my flowery dress.

The forest around us says
        “your baby will be a boy”
        “your baby is too big for your body”

yours, yours, yours.

Elana’s body is too small for her soul.
Strangers take pictures in the hospital parking lot.

There is nothing to do in the waiting room
but speculate.
                                My friend is disappearing and the doctor confirms
on the ultrasound by typing
BOY
MARCH 30, 2018.
By the time I blink she is dead and he comes early.