Samina Syed

Rewrite of “Delivery”

I was in the delivery room

because they told me to do otherwise

would be a sin.

PUT YOUR FEET UP

Guzzo said.

Of course I am obedient

because what matters

is how everyone else feels,

what I feel makes

no difference.

I spread my legs

this time voluntarily,

last time by force.

BY FORCE.

Just hold still sweetheart.

The epidural will lessen the pain.

It is because we sin that there is suffering.

So I will not.

The angels in white stood around me

with stethoscopes and needles and encouragement.

PUSH FOR THAT BEAUTIFUL BABY

YOU CAN DO IT.

Of course I can,

what don’t I do?

What doesn’t she do?

Some of them were angels,

some of them were judging me

another whore

who got knocked up

even though I did not spread my legs voluntarily.

PUSH.

I wanted to push

push the world away from me

and fall deep into space

without air

without gravity

with no one but me and the wide open space

space enough for all these feelings

a space so big

that it is filled with stars

and light

and planets without sins

a space where I could float naked

and nothing that happened would be my fault.

Not slinky dresses

asking

for IT.

IT. It was so many things.

I wanted wide open spaces

but all I got was invasions.

Invasion of my space

that night

and for the past 9 months invasion.

I allowed this parasite

to grow

I fed it

and now I will birth it

straight out of me

out of my burning hell.

And this child

this innocent child

can enter into this world

that gives me so much fear,

I fear it may be a sin to make it do so

but I obey.

I allow

the man that night,

the angel man standing here,

the man dressed in black

reminding me of sins that I committed, of sins I may commit.

I am lying here

legs spread open still

and my heart is pounding

like a bowling ball trapped inside a cage

back and forth

back and forth

inside.

Let go of me

dear baby

Let go of me

fucked up man who made me

let go of me

dear Guzzo don’t you know

that it would be better

if you were not a man?

I scream

and my volcano starts to erupt.

Down there between my legs,

up here underneath my eyes,

inside around my heart.

I needed an epidural

but I needed it for my head.

I needed a baseball bat to hit someone

something to distract them

and then I would run.

Straight on

until Guzzo

and that man

and this baby

were little specks in space

that I could stamp out with my thumb.

And I would keep on running

my body not my own,

but no one else’s either.

I’m tired

of occupation

of hostile takeovers

and people who overstay their welcome.

I’ll run straight into the sky

because no one will think

of looking for me there

and in spaces up so high

you have no body.

And without a body

my territory can not be marked

by doctors

and strangers

and babies

like cats

pissing in a corner.

My body is the trouble

and without it

I will feel much

much of nothing.

And feeling nothing

means feeling safer

means feeling saner

because

there is no feeling at all.