Split
Though the baby sleeps
eyes closed
I can’t turn off
the monumental mother of a role
that has consumed me in these weeks
where is
the lover who licks your ear
runs her fingers through your hair
the one who wants your devouring
whose moans respond to your mouth
but I can’t take off
this layer of soothing and sleeplessness
that makes it hard for you to get a grip
on my breasts that also belong
to another’s lips
and so you falter
an alien in a land that once was home
stealing drops of a milky stream
I can’t control the milk
I’m
leaking
swollen
heaving, dancing, bouncing
“Pinch them…stroke…touch me there…”
I try to guide you but
I’m a general barking orders in boot camp
no spark at all, this flame put out by droplets
we’re more than two, too much for you to take
because you’re not used
to sharing
About the Author
Eloísa Pérez-Lozano writes poems and essays about Mexican-American identity, women’s issues and motherhood. She graduated from Iowa State University with a B.S. in psychology and an M.S. in journalism and mass communications. A Best of the Net-nominated writer, her work has been featured in The Texas Observer, Houston Chronicle, Houston Public Media, and Poets Reading the News, among others. She lives with her family in Houston, Texas.
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