Showing posts with label Cheryl Gatling. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Cheryl Gatling. Show all posts

Infant Pueumonia
—a poem by Cheryl Gatling

Infant Pneumonia

She wouldn’t suck. She wouldn’t cuddle.
Her eyes rolled toward me, then away again.
I hugged her to my chest and ran
from the doctor’s office to the X-ray lab.
There they jammed her into a plastic tube
with her arms above her head,
still in her white T-shirt, crying.
“That’s good,” the technician said.
“It expands the lungs.”
When they handed her back,
I wouldn’t lay her down again.
I slept that night in a chair,
holding her up to keep her throat clear.
In sudden, sharp focus, I cherished it all:
the sweaty spikes of her damp hair,
the rattling vibrations of every death.
I hold no moments more precious than these,
the nearly unbearable,
a pain so pure, it was almost like happiness.


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Cheryl Gatling is a registered nurse in Syracuse, New York, but "Infant Pneumonia" is not about the experiences of a nurse. It is about the experiences of a mother. Check out one of Cheryl Gatling's poems that made into a multi-media presentation at bornmagazine.org. (Enter Gatling into the archives.)


* "Infant Pneumonia" was first published by The Sun. Permission to republish granted by the author.