Virgil

Here's my latest poem, written for the Christmas Poetry contest. Any criticism and comments are welcomed. You can post here or at my thread for this poem: http://www.online-literature.com/forums/showthread.php?t=21298

Holy Night

The rocking motion of the beast
Jiggles the belly,
Wobbles the amniotic sac.

They reach a barn,
Granted privilege,
Poor beast watered and fed.

Husband cushions wife in hay,
Breathing of bestiary only sound,
Marital understanding between eyes
In silent consecration.
Wife slips into sleep.

Husband ventures out for midwife
An evening which may bring
Fatherhood or widowhood,
Returns unaccompanied,
Wood being easier to shape.

Returns with evening meal,
Some bread, some wine.
Returns to screams of wife,
Eyes wide, teeth glaring,
Preagonal motions of enfeebled ritual.

Water, then, to rinse her face
To cool her arms, unwrapping her clothes,
Bathes pre-maternal breasts,
Spreads arms out to refresh pilous pits.

Her hands grip to fists
Contraction strikes through belly
An unclothing to light
Lifts her legs to release, to release—

Beasts clench to screams
Husband strokes her head
Sweat pastes black hair to crown
Naked on her back with streaks of heat
With bulge of belly below.

And the water that flows from her groin
And the pain—to release
Like a crucifixion.

And water—
And lifts her legs—
To release—
And pain—
To a crucifixion—

Will it bring death this life
In some invisible double?
Or will life bring death?

And then release to final pain
To feel arms and feet glide
Through her opening.

And then release of blood,
Release to pure light
Babe swaddled with pain of cry
Wet and bloodied in father’s arms.
Husband covers her with beast’s blanket.

Feels ease of numbness,
Eyes close once again
Crosses legs to close pain
Passes to ethereal sleep.

Hours later she wakes to morning light,
To look at eyes of love.