A Week
The daughter I imagined having
in August, recognized me as her
familiar trailer, took comfort
in the smell of my body, drank
easily. Instead the daughter
that was born slept for many
hours, would have slept everything
away, if we had not woken her up,
fed her with a syringe, with a nipple guard,
with any number of desperate measures.
We became parents and at first
all that meant is that I pumped and you
set alarm clocks and cleaned plastic tubing.
in August, recognized me as her
familiar trailer, took comfort
in the smell of my body, drank
easily. Instead the daughter
that was born slept for many
hours, would have slept everything
away, if we had not woken her up,
fed her with a syringe, with a nipple guard,
with any number of desperate measures.
We became parents and at first
all that meant is that I pumped and you
set alarm clocks and cleaned plastic tubing.
Caitlin Thomson has an MFA from Sarah Lawrence College. Her work has appeared in numerous anthologies and literary journals including: The Chiron Review, Tar River Poetry Review, The Adroit Journal, and Killer Verse. You can learn more about her writing at www.caitlinthomson.com.
