Women in Labor

Women who lie alone at midnight because there is no one else to lie to Women who lie alone at midnight at noon in the laundromat destroying their own socks Women who lie alone at midnight: Hans Brinker, or The Silver Skates Women who lie alone at midnight as the first furl of starlight pearls the moon with nacre Women who lie alone at midnight sending a postcard bearing the face of a bawling infant who cries “I am for the new” Women who lie alone at midnight reciting the names of shoes Women who lie alone at midnight spurting unjustified tears, the kind that run sideways never reaching the mouth, the kind you cannot swallow Women who lie alone at midnight singing breast away the burden of my tender and afterwards burp Women who lie alone at midnight obeying the laws of physics Women who let their dreams curl at the end Women in a monastery of flamingos Women who die alone at midnight contributing to the end, to lost time, to the rain and flies, seeing the bird they saw trapped in the airport surviving by the water fountain What’s more, try it sometime It works