Lithopedion
Breaking like a ninepin inside. We were fulfilled but also
petrified. Tied up by an adhesion, this is the story that we like
to tell: divided into parts. This is the story of an arm, a leg,
an “armistice immobile.” Hands as if taped to the head, legs
akimbo. “We slid the bright contraption over calves.” Now,
through this curtain we can see our rolling dawn: white
and encased, how many eons in the making. The sun now
rising through its tubes, we wonder if we are a ball or pin.
Copyright © 2024 by Katy Lederer. Originally published in Poem-a-Day on October 7, 2024, by the Academy of American Poets.
“‘Lithopedion,’ with its roots in ancient Greek, means ‘stone baby.’ It is used to describe a very rare pregnancy complication in which a fetus passes away in utero and the body then protects itself from infection by calcifying it, like a stone. This poem is part of a series that meditates on early pregnancy using a combination of technical medical language and traditional forms and rhymes.”
—Katy Lederer
Katy Lederer
Katy Lederer is the author of the poetry collections The bright red horse— and the blue— (Atelos, 2017) and The Heaven-Sent Leaf (Crown Publishing, 2008).