A postpartum pantoum
I don’t think I can do this.
“Maybe she’s hungry?” my husband says
as I overflow, feeling little more than flesh:
bloody nipples and bloodied thighs.
“Maybe she’s hungry” my husband says
sagely, as if he’s the one with
bloody nipples and bloodied thighs,
wondering the right way to feel.
Sagely… as if! He’s the one with
multiple reasons to survive, hours off
wandering. The right way to feel?
She needs me, I feed her. Unheld, I hold her.
Multiple reasons: to survive hours of
the same actions, reactions, you must care.
She needs me, I feed her. Unheld, I hold her –
holding onto the day’s newness,
the same actions, reactions. You must care
and I overflow feeling, little more than flesh
holding on. To the day’s newness!
I don’t think. I can do this.
Lydia Watson has always been obsessed with language. Now a content/copy writer, she studied English Literature and Creative Writing at the University of East Anglia before completing a Masters in Language and Linguistics at Lancaster University – continuing to write poetry while finding ever-new ways to appreciate words.