blue
she couldn’t remember not being the midwife
for the goats, sheep, llamas
cows seemed to go off too far on their own for the birthings
she, totem to the totems
wore a green apron at the birthing
with a pocket for all her colors
and another pocket for the jar of molasses she gave the mommas as a final reward
sometimes a final sendoff
leaving a licorice scent on momma’s final breath
then, she would take the momma’s babies
clean them herself with the green apron
then find another momma
squeeze some of that momma’s milk into what was left in the molasses jar
and put that mixture on the new babies’ heads
the lure of molasses and familiar scent of self securing the adoption
only then could she bury the breathless momma
deep into the Momma’s dirt, earth
she’d sprinkle lilacs on top
because lilacs and babies come together
and lilacs and breathless momma’s float off into the wind together
then she’d sit on the hill over the lake
watching the sky
and realize
that she had just midwifed blue into the world,
the world needed blue
for the deepest parts
and the highest parts
and the lonely parts
and the birthday parts
so she put blue in the pocket of her apron with the other colors
and cried
