Monday, August 3, 2020

Wanda Praamsma : Two poems




day four


postpartum bodies
of water      receding

backwards
into      a lake    a love    a swamp      

the sheaths     of skin      & under          
delicate     ripe     responding to catcalls

& cortisol      clots of blood curdling   
out      excretions so big    

exclamations      tumbling floor-ward     
nipples     raw     red         the belly   

deflated      warmed
&     stung      




reflection


once-taut seams
split      rip      

selves       unknown    
beyond my own       time aches   

through the vaginal walls      & I am
backward        awkward    

crêpe-paper thin        imaginings     
like skin        maligned   

inside my mind       dual-spun       
vast tundra of undissected

memories       no truce
not tight      not loose





Wanda Praamsma’s [photo credit: Bernard Clark] first book of poetry, a thin line between, was published by Book*hug in 2014. Her poetry has appeared in Ottawater, eleven eleven, Lemon Hound, and The Feathertale Review. She lives in Kingston, Ontario. Read her blog at swallowwriting.ca