The turn to a paternal god comes
on the heels of where you end and others take.
The mother’s rage within her power
provides the me and the not-me she may not make.
Why does delivery come at such cost?
What is the rage we should withstand?
The infant’s lack, and so her own,
bathe in the sun to soothe a wound, to fill a void.
Maternal finitude could satisfy desire for anything;
the word I write could value what I am,
what I have lived. There is nowhere to hide the suffering.
Maggie Nelson: The Argonauts, Melville House UK, pp. 119-121