Post Partum
by Darlene L. Young, pub. Irrantum vol. 9-10
*
Sucked dry, her ashy body flakes away.
She bows her head into the blessing blast,
the shower’s streaming fingers pulling past
he ears and throat in webs of streaming gray.
The water, snaking down, gathers her tears
and curls past swollen breasts in milky flood
to swirl around her ankles with her blood:
she’ll leak and melt until she disappears.
Her hands, unanchored, pass along her thighs,
her hips, her sagging womb. The pounding rain
can’t wash the echoes of her baby’s cries.
Young husband comes to watch through smudgy pane—
her edges blur. He squints and wonders why
she’s staring, always staring at the drain.
*
This poem copyright 2009 by Darlene L. Young. I love to share my work! Feel free to pass it around, but please make sure you copy it in its entirety and include my name. Thank you!
