SoMa Literary Review

New Mother

By April Nieuwsma

It’s either the blood or the baby

that moves, she thought.

I can distinguish the blood,

but not the baby.

Hospital light would taste heavenly

soft and regular

I could lie open

swaying chaste in a backless gown.

Push that sheet, there, a leg

pulsing out: a prison and

a prisoner, thick red rage

we cannot keep this in forever.

Fleshing out the difference

I will faint: I will drop the whole thing.

April Nieuwsma studied English literature and philosophy at Boston College in Brighton, Massachusetts and Oxford University in England . She currently lives and works in the Bay Area and enjoys experimenting with formal elements of poetry as well as fiction and playwriting.