Hot batter forms a seal over the midwife's face,
scalding his eyelids. He feels the forceps lodge
in something soft and yielding, and thinks:
these workplace hijinks have gone too far.
He cannot breathe - the pancake forms a membrane
over his mouth which tightens when he tries to inhale.
He can hear the patient kicking at her stirrups, rocking
with laughter as he tries to poke an airhole with bloody fingers,
a putty-coloured baby squawling beneath
while lemon juice burns his eyes.
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