...

Cry

Little Girl,

unlike most mothers,

I do not care to assuage your screaming.

Oh, yes, I'll hold you to my breast—I'm not a monster—

which is why I say,

holler as much as you like.

Shake your tiny fists

at a sky you can't see;

spit and cry until you're red all over;

you will spend the rest of your life wanting to.

You might as well get it out

the one time you're allowed.

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