Literary Mama writing about the many faces of motherhood
Zygotes, Hatched and Delivered

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They show us a portrait
of four mystic cells.
In a sterile room,
I am the showcase,
the Diva in blue.

But we're all blue
with blue pants and
blue shirts and blue
shower caps--
antiseptic, joyless creatures.

You sit there harboring regrets
as a man's gloved hands shake
between my thighs.
I squirm and bite, taste
sharp, metallic edges.

Count pressures
in hidden places.

A boy-faced man mutters
fine, fine...
I grab your hand,
the only skin on skin
in the room.

I am lukewarm water and wood,
a taut wire of entrails
between skyscrapers.
I am a reservoir
swallowing trees,
a deluge on a forgotten town.

Then, we see them.
Pixels on the screen.
A flash of ethereal white.

Science bursts.
Perfect, someone says.
Perfect.


Laurette Folk completed her MFA in Writing at Vermont College in 2003 and has been published in the literary magazines Upstreet, City Lines, The Copperfield Review, and Wilderness House Review. Her essays and articles have been published in North Shore Art Throb and The Boston Globe Magazine, among other technical/educational mediums. She writes The Meditation Blog and is an adjunct professor of English at North Shore Community College.


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This is a such a strong poem. I literally felt myself in that room, although I've not shared this experience which I assume is in vitro fertilization. The need for skin on skin, the yearning for human contact is titrated down to the microscopic level and somehow--even in its clinical setting, the fertilization of ovum by sperm, the acceptance of sperm by ovum--in a flash, perfect!-- is orgasmic.
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