By Ailish NicPhaidin
Monday came and went
Tuesday trundled behind
Wednesday made mush of the belly
Thursday came flying through the sky
Bundled in afterbirth and bye.
Martha saw the blessed blood
She breathed hard, pushed tightly
Saw the semblance of little legs
Moving towards the sky.
The head was tiny, strung to the neck
Whitewashed with gossamer
Wrenched from the silver thread
That banished the spirit from the body
And rushed forth to meet the darkness.
James came home
Left of center
Right on time
To administer the whipping
That Martha so deserved.
A hole was dug in the back garden
The amnion whipped into drenched towels
That were deposited into the clay
From whence the baby lay
Forever in a flower bed
Of primroses and pansies
To rebirth the savagery
Of household garbage and grime.
No washing, no drying, no blessing
Just leavings in a flowerbed
And turf in the fire.