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Blackbirds,
Lyrebirds, WeaverBirds

cc&d, v340, the 12/23 issue

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i was, as they say, with child

Julie Allyn Johnson

not yet nineteen at the time
& i knew walking down that aisle
had been a mistake. but all those people—
wan winter faces focused on the bride
in faux anticipation.
presumed obligations.
responsibility intermingling
with duty     & fear.
so. i went through with it
and now, seven months pregnant
with an idiot husband,
whose brazen infidelities of which
i was not yet aware,
we headed home
from a drive-in movie.
might have been Caligula, what were we thinking...
it was late. a light drizzle
gave way to downpour. i know
he felt compelled to take my hand
when i’d offered it.
then, a tunnel. headlights
careening wildly. cattails and tall grasses
slowing our forward acceleration.
rusted culvert in the approaching distance
for i’d awakened
while his eyes remained closed.
our hands still clasped together
as the car shuddered to a stop
and it occurred to me
the night loomed
all around us, very black
and it was no longer raining.



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