I Know What I Am

I Know What I Am water broke over cell-floor pull me up out of my puddle strap me gurney me out ambulance hospital-bracelet handcuffs guard/nurse chunky shoes linoleum march pregnant me down the hall pale room empty walls curdled wattage beige the curtains the forearms the doctor scrubs clean me before he shoves my envelope where I birth the baby who is he is bloody he is draining from his head I can take him I take him baldly in my arms I am losing my arms his canker flowered face in my arms the room rushes slowly to put my arms to smelter around yellow spins blankets breath assistance incubator rolls in lit jar nurse in her whites takes him away before the after-birth clears Ma’am you have to let go now I’m chained to the bed so small vowel say my name baby my name—