"Labor Pangs 1" by Jason Fraley

It's officially Spring and we're kicking that season off with a fantastic series of poems from Jason Fraley! We'll be seeing you back next week for the next one, but check us out on socials. Send me your dogs, cats, birds, weird friends, and everything else to be considered for dog of the week! It's ruff out there, be cool.

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Labor Pangs 1

Before I was born, grandma extends a long match into the furnace. It spans most of the living room floor. Witnesses who described the heat as suffocating hang on the walls. When the furnace ignites, the power sometimes disappears, intimidated. During one of these episodes, I appear in my mother’s arms, swaddled in a patch-cloth pink blanket. As a boy, I’m upset. I grip a corner, rub and rub and rub until threads fray, yawn through to a worn carpet’s brown mouth. Later in life, I learn the connection between absence and love. There’s a thud at the door. Today’s newspaper headline: scientists discover gaps in the sky, name them clouds. How many things have existed forever, just waiting on the right language?

Jason Fraley is a native West Virginian who lives, works, and periodically writes in Columbus, OH.  Current and prior publications include Salamander Magazine, Barrow Street, Pithead Chapel, Quarter After Eight, Mid-American Review, and Okay Donkey.

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