by Elizabeth Fender
It would be about milk, and closeness
It would be about skin to skin candlelight
Alone with her in the darkness, newborn baby girl up all night
And then me with my hair in two braids
And my buttons that split me down the middle
I, whose body broke open
My womb her very first cradle
Us in white chair with ruffle skirt
Us laying back on iron bed
Me, bleary eyed, coping
Her, shut eyed, fed
Keep her and bless her with every good
Surround her with a peace that is true
Milk from my blood
A soul from who knows where
And a little body I made just for you
______
Elizabeth Fender is a Southern California-born stay-at-home mother to a charming but ferocious 3 year old boy and a docile and gassy newborn baby girl. She lives in Virginia but no one holds that against her. She likes to “kick it,” and shop online. She used to write poems.
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