Peter Blair: Dying in the Hospital, My Mother Speaks on My Birthday

The only time
I had a police escort
was your birth. The pains
hit 3 minutes apart.
I called Dad home. Why
didn’t I take a cab?
Mrs. Headley asked
how I could be so calm,
breathing deep, riding
with the contractions.
Dad called the police
so we wouldn’t get stuck
in the Liberty Tubes.
Tie a handkerchief
to the antenna, they said.
Blue lights flashing
off the tunnel walls, sirens
echoing, we burst out
of the dark. What a relief,
to be on the bridge
downtown gleaming
across the river. I made it
in time, and you made it
by kicking and tearing
right through the canal,
no problems–for you.
Dr. Carol loused up
the episiotomy. I went back
to be re-sutured.
But you had all your holes
in the right places.

—

copyright 2014 by Peter Blair

published by permission of the author

Peter Blair