Fall at 33 weeks, by Liz Quirke

 

She said it was like falling

on a small dog

 

that she felt each rattling jolt

of baby bones

 

barely wrapped in paper thin skin

push down to meet concrete

 

She said she heard her own weight

cover and crunch that small shape

 

all four pounds

 

She didn’t have time to catch herself or react

didn’t know what had happened

 

until strangers

lifted her from the steps

 

She surrendered to the slope of a hospital bed

her body to ill-angled foam

 

lay prone as machines read signs we couldn’t see

traced brainwaves and pulses to tell us the worst

 

 

Liz Quirke lives in Spiddal, Co Galway with her wife and daughters. Her poetry has appeared in various publications, most recently New Irish Writing in the The Irish Times and The Best New British and Irish Poets 2016 by Eyewear Publishing. She has been shortlisted in the Emerging Poetry category of the 45th Hennessy Literary Awards.

 

Read more by Liz Quirke here or check out our highly recommended books by Bogmans Cannon founders Dave Lordan & Karl Parkinson.

 

Liz_Quirke

 

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