Return to Top of Page
Menu
  • Close
  • About Us
  • Contributors
  • Donate
  • Opportunities
  • Staff
  • Submissions
  • 20 Years
  • Facebook
  • Twitter
  • Instagram
  • Search Website
Literary Mama
  • Current Issue
  • Past Issues
  • Departments
  • Blog
  • Newsletter

Poetry | October 2011

Stasis

By Jennifer Jordan Schaller

The ultrasound picked up
the black hole of her embryo’s sac.
Her uterus, a death cradle,
holds an almost-child,
eight weeks in the making.
She had an idea it was a she.

This miscarriage feels nothing like her first,
where she asked a doctor to scrape
and vacuum her insides.
She did not want to see
the centimeter-long nubbin
fall out of her;
she felt like a tomb.

One week after her second embryo stopped growing,
she thinks of her uterus as a waterbed,
where a tiny organism sits, softly decomposing,
skin flaking away in the crest
of her uterine crib

She thinks of the almost-child–
webbed fingers
mismatched organs,
translucent skin–
and she wants to touch her.

She imagines a cute, dead embryo.
And then she wonders if that is possible:
a cute, dead embryo.

2 replies on “Stasis”

Natasha Devaliasays:
November 2, 2011 at 11:44 am

Touching piece.

Reply
Robin Worgansays:
November 10, 2011 at 7:37 am

Miscarriages are so sad and a mother’ relationship with her miscarried baby is so complex. Having had a miscarriage and a stillbirth, this gives voice to thoughts and feelings and sense of love and loss that continue in an ever so quiet but real way after the miscarriage. Thank you for giving a poetic voice to this experience.

Reply

Leave a Reply Cancel reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

Share This Page

  • Facebook
  • Twitter
  • Email
  • Copy Link

Jennifer Jordan Schaller

Learn More

Subscribe to Our Newsletter

Don't miss out on Literary Mama news and updates

  • Facebook
  • Twitter
  • Instagram
  • Instagram
  • RSS

© 2023 Literary Mama | Search Site | About Us | Staff | Submissions | Privacy Policy