From the Stillness
by Evelyn Frank Hanna

Still, still little one.
Not one breath, no cry.
The quiet stunned us.

Still being. Born dead.
Shocking body bright and small.
The dreadful night

Still lives vibrantly in me.
Pain sears, tears me apart
Again again. My daughter

Still being born.
No new memories of laughter
Or even tears. Nothing.

Still, nothing in my arms.
Only in my mind is she
Born, still born.


After The Ultrasound
by Evelyn Frank Hanna

We are summoned
to the cluttered
cloistered office
and I focus
on his food
shoved aside

half-eaten apple,
tuna salad sandwich
wedged back in its wrappings

and I want to apologize,
as he utters the unspeakable,
for his lunch disrupted.



Author Biography
Evelyn Frank Hanna is a family day care provider in Galway, N. Y. Her poetry has appeared in The Christian Science Monitor, in the Our Voices anthology, and in Poetpourri, Pudding and other journals. She also has poetry forthcoming in Potpourri. Her work has been honored in several contests, including publication as a Special Merit winner and as a Finalist in the Fall/Winter 2001 Comstock Review awards issue.

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