15
A Rough Passage Bethany Pope
I watched the fur-seal give birth on the rock; the infant's loose head lolled on stone, between it's mother's hind flippers. She could gain no traction, there was nothing to push against. The baby looked dead, caught in the casing of womb, until another anxious wouldbe mother gripped the pup's neck in her teeth and pulled. Out slid the baby, slippery as it would be in water, placenta spooled behind it like a tail and pooled, red and glistening, in a granite hollow. It lay there and gasped as the fierce cows fought and tore their hides, debating custody while seagulls with razor beaks sliced the soft umbilical, devouring streaked strips of red tissue. The blind baby sought a breast.