every drop

i went to see her today
with a belated birthday gift
and to check on everyone after the storm
(little toys and wreaths and crosses
get strewn down the hill by high winds and rain)

as i pulled through the cemetery’s gates
i breathed a sigh of something — relief, connection, nearness, i dont know
and a familiar pang hit my chest,
as my breasts began to swell with milk

i remember this happening after henry was born
my body does not recognize the difference
between love for my living baby and love for my dead one

it is both comforting and upsetting
it is a type of madness, i think

and i am grateful
for every drop