Beth Camp Historical Fiction

Friday, May 30, 2008

#10 Ultrasound

These curves of mine I see
now as ocean waves of sound, whorls
of waves circling, layered, geometric,
as much a part of me as wrist or foot,
my breasts reduced to photographs, impaled
black on white wall. We view tissue
where curves once tilted and seduced.
Once, just once, I swam free
through salty ocean waters, the waves
a memory across sheet after sheet
of diagrams, a strange continuous reality
that has nothing to do with my body.
I stare in hope and dismay
at what technology reveals.


  1. i remember when they used to have the old ultrasounds,, and you couldn't see or tell what anything was.. now a days tho,, it looks so much clearer,, especially when they do the baby ones,, they no longer look like huge fuzzy tadpoles.....

  2. This is beautifully written! I love your use of all those curvy words!

  3. this is good, Beth! You make me believe the subject's plight here though the poem's form remains strong - a great piece of writing.

  4. Powerful writing and
    excellent 'curves'...I was left with a bittersweet feeling at the last line. Nice work. Thanks for sharing your talent.