crackers & milk
- 8 hours ago
- 1 min read
a poetic exploration of postpartum

electric shocks
shoot fiercely through my breasts
I’d massage them
but my hands are caked in peanut butter
and cracker salt
a late-night habit formed
out of fear
of smothering my child beneath my weight
at the only time I find joy in nurturing
from my own body
an experience I yearned for
dreamed of
labeled a nuisance by jealous voices
whose opinions
are never silent
rushers, of a sacred process
pure intimacy
a moment for just two souls
blood running deep
in separate streams
every time I think I’m close
to mending gaping wounds
broken from circumstances
out of my control
they're severed from impatience
selfish desires
grabby hands
snatching before the last drop settles
gulping cheeks barely deflated
my heart hollows with every steal
so I savor
these witching hour moments
as the electric shocks subside
I sleeve the peanut smears from my face
lick the salt from my fingertips
before setting
to burp this gentle creature
now covered in debris
debating in darkness
if the bits I swiped away were
soggy crackers or tears.
*This poem is from my debut collection, Shadow Confessions, a haunting, poetic exploration of PMDD, motherhood, mental health, love, loss, and the resilience found in our darkest moments. Enter the confessions room below to find out more.
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