"Somehow We Persist" by Edward Lee
*Content Warning for pregnancy loss
Two poems by Briana Naseer
Are You a Mother if You Miscarry?
If your uterus usurps you,
are you stuck in parental purgatory,
limbo of lineage
suspended in your sinews,
options ovulating, but no
fetus come to fruition?
Baby never bloomed,
the greenery still gamete only,
haploid and hanging above you,
a placating promise of placenta
that didn’t trumpet past the first trimester—
Corpus luteum left as corpse flower,
Deciduous in its dwindling,
Still pumping progesterone
to an abandoned auditorium.
are you stuck in parental purgatory,
limbo of lineage
suspended in your sinews,
options ovulating, but no
fetus come to fruition?
Baby never bloomed,
the greenery still gamete only,
haploid and hanging above you,
a placating promise of placenta
that didn’t trumpet past the first trimester—
Corpus luteum left as corpse flower,
Deciduous in its dwindling,
Still pumping progesterone
to an abandoned auditorium.
December of Daughters and Deer
The longing is always there,
shadow stitched to my soles,
sad at the lost little soul
disappeared in September.
A magic trick of the body,
bundled up and beating one week,
mere memory the next.
I read poems of deer
that have movie-perfect endings:
plump with daughters
at the resolution,
denouement punctuated
by the perfect name.
I hang stockings from silver deer
dotting my mantle—
A buck, a doe,
their hooks anchored,
heavy with trinkets.
The fawn in the middle,
empty and ephemeral,
vanished come the new year.
My mother sews me pillow covers
with white deer imposed on verdant green,
forest implied by the hue,
ground fertile even in winter.
I buy my husband a Christmas card
with deer on it,
message alluding to sorrow
and eternal hope springing—
If I can force them to be a beacon for me,
maybe I can conjure my daughter
from dream to daylight,
finally in three dimensions when I open my eyes.
I see Beyoncé present her daughter,
dazzling in white and stadium lights.
I see in her eyes, nothing is brighter
than Blue; and I ache
for the rest of my world
to dim the same way.
My want is bald and bawdy,
a bleeding and a bleating
I can’t quiet.
If only I could make it
unassuming, accidental;
tracks in the snow.
shadow stitched to my soles,
sad at the lost little soul
disappeared in September.
A magic trick of the body,
bundled up and beating one week,
mere memory the next.
I read poems of deer
that have movie-perfect endings:
plump with daughters
at the resolution,
denouement punctuated
by the perfect name.
I hang stockings from silver deer
dotting my mantle—
A buck, a doe,
their hooks anchored,
heavy with trinkets.
The fawn in the middle,
empty and ephemeral,
vanished come the new year.
My mother sews me pillow covers
with white deer imposed on verdant green,
forest implied by the hue,
ground fertile even in winter.
I buy my husband a Christmas card
with deer on it,
message alluding to sorrow
and eternal hope springing—
If I can force them to be a beacon for me,
maybe I can conjure my daughter
from dream to daylight,
finally in three dimensions when I open my eyes.
I see Beyoncé present her daughter,
dazzling in white and stadium lights.
I see in her eyes, nothing is brighter
than Blue; and I ache
for the rest of my world
to dim the same way.
My want is bald and bawdy,
a bleeding and a bleating
I can’t quiet.
If only I could make it
unassuming, accidental;
tracks in the snow.
Briana Naseer is a Pakistani-American school psychologist and poet living in Chicago, Illinois. She has a bachelor’s degree from the University of South Florida, and a master’s degree in education and an education specialist degree from The Chicago School of Professional Psychology. Her debut poetry collection is entitled Rind.
Edward Lee is an artist and photographer from Ireland. His paintings and photography have been exhibited and published widely, with many pieces in private collections. His website can be found at https://lastimagesphotography.com
Instagram: @edwardleeart
Instagram: @edwardleeart
