Kangaroo Care by Amy Fleury

Just ten days old, he should still be swaddled

in the amniotic waters of my womb.

Today is our first time to hold and be held.

While the nurse unbundles him from his cocoon,

he wiggles and yawns as I settle in the chair.

It takes three people to maneuver the wires

and tubes to deposit him in my blouse, nestled 

against my familiar lubdub that once soothed.

At last we are skin to skin, again mother to son.

I marvel at the throb of his strawberry heart,

the subtle pulsing of his fontanel, the thin lids

that seal his sleepy eyes. I can trace his veins

from temple to wrists as delicate as birch twigs.

We cover him with a warmed blanket, this child

alive on my chest, little joey in my pouch.

Afraid I might hurt him, I hum us both calm.

I sniff his peach-down and his tiny hand wraps

around my pinkie. I’ve never felt more happy

or whole. I want him to stay snug forever

inside my milk-soaked shirt, sleeping safe

in my pocket where he’s always belonged.

Amy Fleury is the author of two collections of poems, Beautiful Trouble and Sympathetic Magic, both from Southern Illinois University Press, and a chapbook, Reliquaries of the Lesser Saints. She directs the Master of Fine Arts Program in Creative Writing at McNeese State University in Lake Charles, Louisiana.

28 March 2022