Sentimental Evening ...Middle East

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Sentimental Evening
The pewter moon’s eyebrowed guisecircles a picture of my son. A windex tearfalls to my son’s cheek, and I knowwe will never fully know one another.Message after message asking:How is the breast feeding going?Let me tell you: Not great. Not great at all.Everywhere advice to make the milk come:plums, fenugreek, blessed thistle.This morning each stream of water fallingfrom my showerhead was a knife readyto gut me. The pewter moon’s smilewants to eat me whole. Online strangerstell me to love my postpartum body.They say: You are tiger, you are zebra.I am desperate to return to the numb feelingof the surgical theater, the soundof the doctor mispronouncing my full name.In the mail a medical bill wo

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