Post-Partum Blues

By Kelli Perkins-Bauer

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I am warning you: it will happen.

You have just had your baby,

and everything will fall apart.  Every

movie you watch, every book you

read, will make you weep.  You  might

fight it, claim that there is no cure

for your happiness, that nothing

can separate you from this new,

lovely being.  But when you hear

 

about the trunk of a woman washed

up to shore, her unborn baby

a mile north, you can’t help but feel

lonely.  You will wonder why they

couldn’t have been found joined

together, their arms curved

 

moons glowing towards one

another.  His mouth open, searching

for a breast, her eyes open, looking

for a god.  Their faces stunned, in awe

of one another, hugging as they swim

through the Pacific.  You will want this

 

to have happened instead, wish

the sun could’ve warmed their cold,

precious bodies, then moved them

to someplace else, some spot where fish

breathe without water, where salt is sweet.  Then,

 

you will hear your own son cry.

He is hungry.  He kicks, his stomach

alive, growling waves on rocky

banks.  You will scoop him up,

his body spooning your chest,

your arms an orbit around this hot

planet.  You will look at him, with red

stained eyes, and tell him:

don’t be so greedy now,

save some for the others, the ones

you wish could be nursed back to life.

 

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Bio/Byline: Kelli Perkins- Bauer has been living in Michigan for ten years, where she is working on a collection of vignettes and a screenplay. When not writing or reading, she gets stuck in a California daydream, somewhere along the coastal highway.