Filling in the Postpartum Depression Questionnaire I Think of the Sea
Nobody talks about the joy / it is a shard
through still squashed innards / softened from lack of sleep
mould me again around it / that lodged spike
sometimes I feel myself / expanding again
there's a sloshing of water and blood / a sea sickness
the twinge of tissues extending / they shore up
against this hard happiness / you bring me a shell
and I swallow it / I don’t talk about the joy
sunk as I am / with the weight of it

