your shout pierces the night
and i wake with a jolt.

i carefully get out of bed
holding my swollen belly
and silently shuffle to your room.

it still smells like bath time.
of oranges and cream
of giggles and stolen smooches
of story time and toothpaste.

you stand in your crib
hair tussled and eyes red
and i pick you up
under your outstretched arms
and kiss away those salty tears
hush the fears
and rock in our favorite chair.

you don’t quite fit
like you used to

your body
splayed
over my round
tummy

you reach
for my hair
and give small tugs

as we rock
in the safe
silence.

your baby sister
keeping rhythm
with her kicks and twirls
and i think
can life
get any better
than this?

— kass mangione: “poemspartum: pregnancy, postpartum, motherhood, seasons (growth)” (2024)