Marte Stuart

ter Being Hauled Out by My Husband
Following the Miscarriage
of Our First Child

As | stood empty,

sobbing on the shore,

out of the swiftness

of that dangerous current,

shivering with cold and naked,

as blood formed rivulets

down my legs onto the river bank
where | stood, raw and vulnerable
under an October sky,

wondering what forces had come

to orchestrate this particular scene
both foolish and grand, of me
surviving the pull of that flood

only because my man dragged me out
along a tethered line,

feet not touching the rocky bottom,
and wondering ‘how come’ my baby died,
and left me bereft and bleeding

at the river’s edge, next to an empty road,
with an open uterus

allowing all the waters of the world in
but holding no water back in my womb.
Where later, in the heated truck
wrapped in a coat and feeling small,
like | could just float away

and drain down that river to the sea,

| caught a glimpse of you,

my beautiful boy, hesitating

at the river’s edge,

watching me, one small foot

already stepped in.

32 ARTIST: JAEDON BRAUN