Archive for September 12th, 2020

Saturday, 12 September 2020

Family Planning by Victoria Kennefick

You are tugging at my skirt, aged two,
wanting a toy, a spoon from the drawer.

You are a few months old, just able
to hold your big old baby head up on that teensy neck.

It is your birthday.  I am sweating and empty; you are
greasy-white with vernix, rising and falling with my breath.

I survived and you did too, your father is crying.
We are a little family, neat as a pin. Except

you are still waiting, Portia or Lucia or May
in parts. I carry a tiny piece I secrete

so secretly every month, you grow impatient when water
turns that warm and brilliant shade. It is alive

while you are not. Daughter-to-be, if you could form
your hands into little fists you would bang on my womb,

that carpet-lined waiting room, but your father has your fingers
and I have wrapped up your nails so you can’t rip me to ribbons.

We keep you apart, even as we come together, but I hear
him whisper your name, soft as blame in his sleep.


Date: 2020

By: Victoria Kennefick (19??- )