POETRY

By Stephanie Kirby

Each birth brings the body closer to death: a birthing body splits like rot, equal in burden to falling trees. Its weight: almost leaf­less.  There is nothing left except a tree in decline,

housing life. This anatomy is not so dif­fer­ent: what’s left

but to yield

a canopy, unfold

a new body in green.

Photo by Matthew Smith.

This story orig­i­nal­ly appeared in Stonecoast Review Issue 19. Support local book­sellers and inde­pen­dent pub­lish­ers by order­ing a print copy of the mag­a­zine.