‘Why in Some Hospitals They Don’t Let You Hold Hands During Labor’

Consider the perineum  

stretched like cheap nylons

each night, two fingers 

then three dipped in oil  

opening the taint’s

buttery seam. Consider

the bloody asterisk

of mucus plug,

amniotic sac

that refused to break

until I unhooked 

from the saline drip

and danced until I pissed

myself, urine streaming pink

down my legs. Consider 

the wedding band

my husband removed

before I crushed

his hand at ten centimeters,

bit his knuckle as if excavating

myself from a wreck;

excrement and buckets of ice, 

the mirror someone placed 

between my legs until I understood 

I didn’t need it, closed my eyes

and orchestrated my own

resurrection, cupping the dark

oil of my daughter’s hair

as she emerged. Yes, I would have 

pulled my husband into the abyss with me,

tearing open in every direction 

like a star. I would have cracked 

his carpals like a piano’s brittle keys

like snapping the neck of a dove.

I would have burned the whole place down

to get where I needed to go.

Kendra DeColo is the author of I Am Not Trying to Hide My Hungers From the World, My Dinner With Ron Jeremy and Thieves in the Afterlife. Learn more at kendradecolo.com.

Alexandria Hall is an illustrator and muralist based in Nashville who uses vivid color, symbolism and the human figure to convey messages of joy, curiosity and the human experience. You can find her work on Instagram (@alexandriaolivia) and at alexandriahall.com.