Cesarean<\/p>\n
I.<\/p>\n
There was an opera playing\u2014
\nI remember that\u2014
\nso beautiful, a modern piece sung by a woman
\nwhose name I would never remember,
\nalthough the surgeon spoke it once, softly,
\nthrough his mask, and I strained to hear
\npast the clatter of implements on silver trays,
\nthe bustle of the scrub nurses,
\nthe murmurs of the anesthesiologist holding my head,
\nhis tray of gauze strips fluttering like prayer rags\u2014<\/p>\n
II.<\/p>\n
They\u2019d pinned my arms down
\nlike a butterfly\u2019s wings;
\nI had no feeling from the waist down;
\na dreaminess took hold:
\nand the woman\u2019s voice kept wandering
\nin and out of the minutes, pulling
\nmy mind after it, the notes
\nstretched so far the words had become
\nunintelligible\u2014<\/p>\n
The light was as bright as the sun
\nover an excavation site;
\nthey were cleaning the area,
\ntaking up their tools\u2014<\/p>\n
III.<\/p>\n
Down and down through a slit
\nin the world, earth
\nfalling away on both sides, past
\nhistory, botched experiments, sepsis,
\nJacob the pig-gelder begging permission
\nto cut open his wife
\nin labor for three days; past
\nlegend, Caesar cut whole
\nfrom his mother;
\nand deeper still, myth: Bacchus
\nslit from Zeus\u2019 thigh,
\nAthena bursting fully-armed from his head,<\/p>\n
as whatever is unmothered, torn IV.<\/p>\n Jars, funeral urns, broken pieces of the ancient city, and the mind, V.<\/p>\n There was something in me; pulling with all its weight\u2014<\/p>\n VI.<\/p>\n On the plain, the tumulus from where I was, it did not look that ceaseless singing\u2014<\/p>\n VII.<\/p>\n At last they found what they were looking for. <\/p>\n “Cesarean” is reprinted from Bellini in Istanbul<\/em> (Tupelo, 2005).<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Lillias Bever<\/a>‘s first collection of poems, Bellini in Istanbul<\/em> <\/a>(Tupelo, 2005), won the Tupelo Press First Book Competition, and was a finalist for the Washington State Book Award. Her work has appeared in\u00a0Poetry<\/em>,\u00a0Gettysburg Review<\/em>,\u00a0New England Review<\/em>, Pleiades, <\/em>and Shenandoah<\/em>, among others, and has been the recipient of grants and fellowships from Artist Trust, the Seattle Arts Commission, and 4Culture. She lives in Seattle.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" Cesarean I. There was an opera playing\u2014 I remember that\u2014 so beautiful, a modern piece sung by a woman whose name I would never remember, although the surgeon spoke it once, softly, through his mask, and I strained to hear … Continue reading
\nfrom its context, becomes
\nholy\u2014<\/em><\/p>\n
\nof pottery still glazed with their lovely enamels,
\nnecklaces of lapis and ivory, gold
\ncrowns encrusted with dirt, the mound<\/p>\n
\nsharp as the pig-gelder\u2019s knife\u2014<\/p>\n
\nI\u2019d felt it for such a long time,
\nand now they were digging to find it,
\nbut not like the archaeologist finding
\nthe glint of something precious
\nin the earth, no, not as gentle
\nas that freeing, with its brushes
\nand soft cloths, more like
\na robin tugging at a worm
\nstuck fast in the earth,<\/p>\n
\nswollen with artifacts; in the distance
\nmen bending and cutting, digging
\nthen pausing to lean on their shovels
\nin the hot sun, sweat pouring down their backs;<\/p>\n
\nlike delicate work, more like
\nhard labor: burnt grass, a broken wall
\nor two, goats grazing
\ncasually in the shade, and high up in the trees<\/p>\n
\nI heard a voice ask, What is it? What is it?<\/em>
\nThey were cleaning something, holding it up to the light\u2014<\/p>\n