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Thank you for the encouragement, Mom and poemfriends. I really, really needed it. I’m on the downhill slide now. I just got facestuck, a word I’m sure has already been coined, in old photos and videos of my youngest daughter, who is about to turn three on Saturday. Goodness, she was a pretty baby. Makes my phantom womb hurt.

It was nearly three years ago today that our dear friend from Grad school met up with us in the yard of our tiny town, and the day after I got so allergic that I sneezed out a kid. We did sparklers in the yard until midnight with D-1, and I woke up all sneezy and crampy.

I’m going to write a quick poem about that, so that HP and I can hang and reminisce tonight. Word.

Here’s this:

On the Downhill

On the downhill slide, it is said, on the southside of the mountain, in art and perhaps in life, taking into account certain probable accidents and ailments, but let’s just banish the thought, and think of the birth of a daisy, mawkish to some, in the sharing, cloying as it may be, it happened to me, naturally, yes naturally, with some pain and some astonishing awe, undaunting, no biggie compared to the delivery of grace. Down you came in the disco water, in a burst of gentle thought, and what did I say to you, oh geez kid, the tunnel must’ve been scary, you’re okay, you’re okay, here is a warm blanket and some breasts to see you through. What time to a bursting woman? What time, says the eye doctor, who says I’m  pain-high and sneezing, and asks if I plan on natural, as if it wasn’t already happening. This is the story, girl, the way you came out of me, in the summer, in the evening, on the downhill slide toward evening and you.

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A HD poem! Gosh, I love that girl. Happy Thursday, poemfriends. Did I just do a tbt poem? I think I did.

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