Postpartum

There is a kind of pressure in humans to take what is most beloved to them and smash it.

   – Anne Carson

 
If my despair shatters
could  I hurt  you:  Wobble neck
snapped. In my hands. I break you

into scream… ease does not wash me,
rock water begins its pound:
Swim, I tell myself, Swim—
but deep currents switch,
drag me beyond
the glassy waves—

Come back—come, back…    
 
Touch: freckle beneath left eye.
Listen: suckle.
Smell: milk across your breath.

Author of the article

Lani Scozzari is a graduate of Emerson College where she earned a BFA in Poetry. She graduated with an MFA in Poetry from Sarah Lawrence College where she served as editor of their literary journal, Lumina. Recent publications include, The Mom Egg, Comstock Review, Saw Palm, DeComp Magazine, Whistling Fire, and several anthologies. She is a recipient of the Massachusetts Cultural Council Finalist award and most recently received The Palm Beach Poetry Festival Cornelius Eady Scholarship. She is the mother of two young daughters.