Crab Orchard Review Vol. 12, No. 2, our

Adrienne Su
In Labor
Those who’ve been there understand
the choice of preposition: not at or on,
not through or under. Labor’s a stanza,
room into which no one follows entirely.
A good midwife gets to the doorjamb;
exceptional nurses hang behind her, calmly
assessing your voice. The father, however
sensitive or kind, turns instantly inept,
a gesturing fool locked out forever.
Looking back from the side of the cliff,
you wonder how you ever trusted this
mortal whose cheerful ovations are rife
with presumptuous ignorance. How
would he be able to tell if you were
doing great? Pain, like Charon, rows
you across into hell; as labor’s language
translates into curses in your own,
you take all names in vain, then engage
with the only person here who’s having
as tough a time as you, the one who wants
to exit the stanza. Labor’s the hardest-working
working vacation, last unequivocal getaway
in a long line of days. Once upon a time
you could be bought with nifty sayings
188 ◆ Crab Orchard Review