I hate you for it,
Rent from DeepDyve- I hate you for it,
my mother says. Nenavizhu, loathe. For not lovingyourself enough. For the two mile trek through the belly of thiscity in winter. For never walking alone anymore. For the windpushing hard against the stroller and my fingers numb against the phone.For hanging up without telling her why I didn't ask his fatherto drive us. For time off being reserved for daddy'sdoctor's appointment days and sad days and hungover daysand days when I'm not there.For calling back and saying I enjoyed the walk and it being trueand how it didn't hurt. Mostly. How the doctor told meto put the baby on my chest while she openedmy thighs with the speculum. "This will keep you from becominga big brother," she said to him. Mozhet cherez paru lyet. How I translated it asmaybe in a few years. How he was three months old and somehowunderstood both languages. How there was blood.A lot of it after. How a dull achepushed against the wind or the wind against the ache or the strolleragainst it all. How that night, he got his first fever and I felthis top tooth push through the gum line. How none of uscould sleep because the neighbor's basement flooded and the city cameto jackhammer the belly of our street. For the asphalt.How it opened like a mouth, a wound, thighs. [End Page 11]
Julia Kolchinsky Dasbach holds an MFA in poetry from the University of Oregon and is a PhD candidate in comparative literature at the University of Pennsylvania. Her collection The Many Names for Mother (2019) won the Stan and Tom Wick Poetry Prize. She is the author of The Bear Who Ate the Stars (2014), and her poems appear in Best New Poets, American Poetry Review, and TriQuarterly, among others. Julia is editor-in-chief of Construction Magazine and writes Other Women Don't Tell You, a blog about motherhood.
