THE WEIGHT OF IT

A late summer peach,

          the baby on my chest,

his mewling cry,

          and I

in the grass at dusk

          lying pinned to the lawn

like moth wings

          to a board,

how the ground

          claims some eggs and not

others, the way

          all matter settles

into the finest cracks, snow

          in even the ocean’s

black canyons,

          how a slab

of meat slaps the counter,

          the thud

of a fallen book, a deadline

          on my chest, two bodies

fitting their pieces together

          in the dark, the cat

in a box

          all sealed up on my lap,

a plume of smoke

          issuing from the ghost

of a house, small eddies

          of ash whirling

along the ground, how I rise

          shrugging up

from the ether

          of sleep, my heart

like a killing jar

          bound by muscle,

a handful

          of beetles clicking inside.

Kate Gaskin's poems have appeared or are forthcoming in Tar River Poetry, Cherry Tree, Turtle Island Quarterly, and The Southeast Review Online, among others.