Rachel Mindell is the author of two chapbooks: Like a Teardrop and a Bullet (Dancing Girl Press) and rib and instep: honey (above/ground). Individual poems have appeared (or will) in Denver Quarterly, DIAGRAM, Tammy, BOAAT, Forklift, Ohio, The Journal, and elsewhere. She works for Submittable.




Rachel Mindell

Insemination



You write to say white bloom revealed. A skirt going up and up and up, pearls. Fearing purple buds that killed our coleus. To assume I am opposed to dancing. It's just not true. The fichus, she's a she. I take my womb away while you play petals. Any fool's errand is an errand still: cross it. Any IUI involves jabbing at the queen’s mouth till She puckers. Sperm sample: bra warm and honey's Proof. Wide-eyed Elsie with a tongue for grass. She's saying rush now, frozen to wake for. We'll see the sort of cow I am too in time. Till then stay my hubby wife. Take this batter, Spread it with your softest, flattest knife. The peace lily signals, she's all signs.

We didn’t know the peace lily I had gifted my lover was a peace lily until it bloomed out of nowhere after three years. The coleus I had given them had already flowered itself to death when this occurred and so the white bloom was both beautiful and maybe also treacherous. What did it bely? While undergoing artificial insemination treatments (Intrauterine Insemination or IUI) to become pregnant, I’ve been highly attuned to physical signals within my own body of new life, the future, danger — this poem intends to bring these several anticipations together.



Glass: A Journal of Poetry is published monthly by Glass Poetry Press.
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