We sign papers permitting natural death.
I read aloud words underlined in red
from The Hiding Place.
Her lungs won’t last the day,
and each breath
is a prayer,
a lily in the rose water of my chest—
cleaved from her own skin.
The sun is a golden pitcher tipped to earth,
as it sets.
She is the cup.
You can surrender your baby, up to 60 days old, to any nurse at any hospital in Texas
without fear of punishment…
(Safe Haven Law)
She held him as he curled beneath her rib,
as he pushed through water
and later still,
handed him across the desk—
in her howling arms.
Moses split the Red Sea,
born of woman,
from a bulrush womb in the Nile River.
The black cord still woven in his belly.
Convulsion, Thirteen Months Old
Burst of breath
of green, whir of bees,
Stacy R. Nigliazzo’s debut poetry collection, Scissored Moon, was published in 2013 by Press 53. It was named Book of the Year by the American Journal of Nursing. It also placed as a finalist for the Julie Suk Poetry Prize (Jacar Press) and the Texas Institute of Letters First Book Award for Poetry/Bob Bush Award. (srnigliazzo.com)