By Riley Morsman
@rileybethmo

Forsythias are everywhere—
always planted, it seems,
in front of houses painted blue.
The yard unfurls slowly,
violets thrown across grass
like cheerios on the kitchen floor.
Daffodils transform from peeking 
leaves to golden blooms overnight
—like little feet suddenly not 
little enough for their shoes. Red-
buds pop with purple, maples
are dotted with green, and I am 
bleeding our baby 
into the world
too soon.

Robin lovers gather twigs
from the elm tree dying
in our front yard, blades
of last year's lawn, and strands 
of hair (maybe mine, maybe
from your brother's sun-
kissed curls, maybe 
from the black mask 
of the raccoon who lives 
in our backdoor neighbor’s
cottonwood). Soon 
the twigs and grass
and hair will encircle
blue eggs—blue like 
the forsythia houses, blue
like the finally-free-from-rainclouds
April sky, blue like the hospital gown 
I change into as I bleed our baby
into this world
too soon.

Rain made the white
spirea petals fall like confetti 
on the driveway. Our tires press
them flat as we come home. It is dark,
and all the babies are sleeping—
baby leaves budding on the trees, 
baby peonies balled tight, 
baby bunnies, baby robins, 
and our not-so-baby-anymore
little boy in his crib inside. He'll never
know we left, never know
that his grandpa came
to sit on our couch in the middle
of the night while I slipped 
the strings of a blue mask 
over my ears in the emergency 
room lobby. But I promise he'll know 
how I bled our baby 
into the world
too soon.

I promise 
every spring
the forsythias 
will remind me
of you. 

Guest poetry written by Riley Morsman. Riley is a graduate of the MFA Program in Creative Writing & Environment at Iowa State University. She writes creative nonfiction, poetry, and inter-genre work that has been published in Fathom Magazine, Calla Press Publishing, Barren Magazine, among others. Riley currently resides in the Kansas City area with her husband and two sons. When she isn't writing or reading, she enjoys adding more prairie perennials to her garden, hunting for treasures in local thrift stores, and putting too much honey in her tea.