Winter is not a season
but my glacial womb, the blue
ice that festoons my shoes, my toes
tapping as I croon: moon, moon,
send us some snow! I will not be born,
cannot live until a blizzard comes,
my father chopping blocks frozen
by the side door, my mother’s contractions
coming closer, coinciding with the strike
of metal on stone. Usher me in—midnight’s
hush
deeper still in snow’s silence. Feathered
dark, air sharp with chilled clarity.
Winter, my midwife.
Winter, the breathing season.
Winter Birth
Ellen Austin-Li’s 2025 debut collection, Incidental Pollen, is the runner-up to Madville Publishing’s Arthur Smith Poetry Prize. Finishing Line Press published her chapbooks Firefly and Lockdown: Scenes From Early in the Pandemic. Ellen is a Pushcart Prize and Best of the Net-nominated poet whose work appears in many places, including SWIMM, Salamander, The Maine Review, Lily Poetry Review, and One Art. Sundress Academy for the Arts (SAFTA) has supported her work. Ellen holds an MFA in Poetry from the Solstice program. She curates the reading series Poetry at Artifact at Sitwell’s in Cincinnati, where she lives. Find her here: https://ellenaustinli.me/