At the Border

for Nina                                                  

My hand slips past the guard rail                 
of the hospital bed,                                             
                         
date of birth on my wristband,                               
date of death postponed.

By the grace
of a scalpel blade  
                              
I have made it across                                                        
the border just 
                                                              
in time. My blessing hand rests
on Nina’s great naked belly,                                   
                                   
Liliana treading water,                                 
headed for land,                                      

her millions of eggs                                              
already alive inside.

-- first published in Talking Writing

listen Listen to Chana Bloch reading "At the Border"