

Secret Town
for Katie
Nursing,
milk shoots
from her babyless breast
clear across the bed
her mind of drawers
yanked open, found empty.
There, that clear space
on the floor looks good
for curling into
dreaming of showers
a nurse put her in
to revive, like a drunk
stoned in a girdle of pain
she can’t crawl away from.
He said if she went out
he’d let the baby scream
after that
kicked-in cupboards
don’t faze her, nor
restraining orders, DUI’s
and all the bleeding years ago
through pads, shorts, car seat,
the drive to the hospital my god.
So much blood on her hands, in her
hair, clots of someone she can’t
ever put back.
Fever
The heat of your small body
pulsed waves of worry
through shallow dreams, woke me again
and again. Your cheeks flushed
an unholy pink, the skin
of your lips swelled and shiny, scorched
by some inner violence.
When you woke
your vacant eyes regarded me
from some newly indifferent shore
found me praying you would
make your way, would pull me back
from this unforgiving edge
of mother-love.
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