I lacked the natural impulse to come
into this world. Attempted by a wing and a prayer,
as my grandmother used to say.
I sat in protest in my mother’s womb.
Buttocks against her birth canal, refusing
a graceful entry. My crooked tailbone speaks
against the brutality of my birth. A hand
like the forceps of God, reached into my
mother’s vagina, twisting my body into
the obedient child, a compliant child,
submissively entering head first as all
good children do. I was callously forced
into a hostile world, a world I would rather forget.
A world I often see in hindsight.
Kathy Buckert holds a Master’s Degree in Education from St. Michael’s College in Vermont. She also holds an M.F.A in Creative Writing from Goddard College’s low-residency program in Plainfield, Vermont. Her focus at Goddard College was creative nonfiction, but she loves to dabble in poetry and fiction. Her work has appeared in The Helix Literary Magazine, Stories: The Magazine, Black Mirror Magazine, Emergence Magazine, The Barefoot Review, RiverLit, and Ephipany.com. She is an adjunct assistant professor at Monroe Community College in Rochester, New York.