From
the Stillness
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
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.
