Jackson D. Moorman

Before Labor

The hospital sends us home 

at dusk, our son a horizon 

in your belly. The misoprostol

to pry you open one millimeter 

at a time. It could be lightning 

quick or slow as a Pacific storm 

rolling in. We make coffee. We slide open 

the screen door, sit on the balcony,

watch the purpling branches lull and twist

and lull again. You stand, belly to the railing, 

palms up like bowls to catch any hint of rain. 

You, unabashed in your thirst. 

Days past ready to crack open 

towards the edge of yourself and him. 

Braver than any stormchaser, softer than any 

quiet center. It’ll be hours until 

the sky dilates. Until the birds go still 

for just a moment, then burst into flight.

My brother, the captain,

steers his rusted Corolla out to the docks 

at 4 every morning. Narragansett dawn, ships 

rolling in their half sleep. Slides on rubber boots, 

salt-stained coveralls, knit beanie I got him 

last Christmas. He’s grown muscled 

these past years, a man overlapping

the little boy I’ll always expect. Every time 

I return home to Boston, a new scar 

pinking his hands as he reveals in them, 

gleaming, a ridged shell from his newest batch 

of oysters. Beavertail, Frost Bite, Harvest Moon. 

Healed wound from the shucking knife, the steel 

cables, the cage’s slippery edge. He calls me 

on a Santa Cruz morning so violently bright 

I can hardly tell ocean from sun. Tells me 

they almost capsized today. Atlantic so cold it’ll kill

you much faster than you can remember the names of 

everyone you’ve ever loved. Gale weather, radar down, 

fog thick enough to taste. I can hear his smile

on the other end of the line, know that flavor 

of joy all too well. That the end would have been 

legend, not just sadness. The danger finally external. 

The catastrophe finally from the outside, not in.

Jackson D. Moorman (he/him) is a queer and trans poet, organizer, and nurse who lives in Oakland with his wife, son, and two tiny rescue mutts. He is co-creator of the poetry journal Frozen Sea and co-organizer of a poetry series for Palestine, In Water & Light. His work has appeared or is forthcoming in Shō Poetry Journal, the minnesota review, and elsewhere. Read more of his work at jacksondmoorman.com.

Artwork: “Toy Boat” by Daniel Lurie

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