Ceilidh Barlow Cash
It feels like holding a bird in one hand
and a bowling ball in the other.
At a caregivers support group, the facilitator
wears a grinch-green jacket
and leaves the discussion group twice
to vomit, audibly, in the next room.
I’m pregnant, she apologizes,
then folds herself back into her chair.
She names the bird & bowling ball phenomenon.
The only two others at the meeting,
two thin, bird-like wives of men
who suffered strokes
twenty years ago
fold their papery hands
on the linoleum table,
and clear their throats.
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