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Poetry | March 2012

Testing

By Renee Beauregard Lute

I.
Nothing is more holy shit than the positive
on our bathroom sink. There is a feeling
beyond pleasure, beyond joy, beyond fear,
that chews me from the knees up,
and I need to lie down in the way
that I need to breathe. I bring the positive
to bed.

II.
I am finishing my thesis.
I will tell you that I dream of
my thesis defense, and of the publication
of my thesis-novel, and that sometimes,
in the shower, I hold one-sided conversations
about my novel with Oprah while I clean
body parts that seem different every day.
(My breasts, my stomach, these veins.)
I don’t write as often as I need.
I sleep, I vomit, I try again tomorrow.

III.
The baby is shadows and a heartbeat,
and I want to buy a bassinet to keep
by my side of the bed. The baby looks
(according to my in-laws) like ginger root, and
(according to me) like a lava lamp, and
(according to my husband) like a baby.
There is a hard patch, now, just below
my stomach: a fluid bassinet, a grapefruit.

IV.
It is too early for snow, but I hum
in my bed with the blinds closed
to the afternoon sun–let every heart
prepare him room
–and I touch my stomach
carefully, testing, because it is so new. A promise,
a cradle, a room.

4 replies on “Testing”

Amanda Williamsensays:
April 1, 2012 at 9:52 am

My friend Sarah Nelson referred me to your poem. It is beautiful. I, too, am a poet and a mother, so I particularly identified with it. I like your indirect comparison of the baby to Christ and the line about ginger root. Very fresh, if you’ll pardon the pun! Lovely poem.

Reply
Mardrasays:
April 2, 2012 at 4:47 pm

Nothing much to say except I love this!

Reply
Katherine J Barrettsays:
April 3, 2012 at 1:31 am

This is beautiful, Renee. It’s true — nothing is more “holy shit!” Well said.

Reply
Dawnsays:
April 20, 2012 at 10:30 pm

So beautiful. And so many lovely surprises — in the experience and in your poem.

Reply

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