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July 2016, vol 12 no 2

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Jessica Malone Latham


no one said there would be cussing. no one said my robe would be coated in blood. the birthing tub left at home, cold and drained. no one said he’d take me, on my hands and knees, through twisted roads beneath tangled live oak, and into the bright lights of the hospital. no one said I’d have to choose another way to release my son from womb to world. no one said a word.

baby’s breath
in the bouquet of flowers
a blank card