Alicia Rebecca Myers

24 Weeks

Calving: to detach or give birth.
So as to be both drift and manifold.
The splinter inside the whorl.
I pinch-test my nipples to see if they lift
away from the breast. Success! I do this
while breaking coverage of the missing plane insists
no wreckage. Imagine standing on a mountain
and trying to spot a suitcase on the ground below.
Then imagine doing it in complete darkness.
Then imagine doing it with another’s eyes
fused inside you. Not even recognizing
your own body. I open my mouth to the fluted stem
of a crepe myrtle. More in bloom because
it was cut back. Because it was cut. My friend
is likewise hopeful in the pare of divorce.
We’re told to detach makes birth manageable.

Alicia Rebecca Myers is a poet and essayist whose work has appeared most recently in or is forthcoming from The RumpusGulf Coast, jubilat, The Carolina Quarterly, The Fairy Tale Review, The Southern Poetry Anthology: Georgia and Best New Poets 2015. In February of 2014, she was awarded a residency at the Kimmel Harding Nelson Center in Nebraska City. Her chapbook, My Seaborgium, will be released from Brain Mill Press in 2016. She welcomed a son last August and teaches at Wells CollegeYou can find her online at