My kid won’t stop screaming on this airplane
flight headed back to Texas from my husband’s
prior home, his country, this other land of rapid-fire language,
empanadas, concrete, stray dogs, beauty.
I cannot stop thinking of what to do to make the screaming stop,
The toddler growing increasingly angry,
passengers staring at me, waiting for a proclamation,
Or decree of silence.
I pull up my shirt, pull down my bra,
hoist my raw nipple into his mouth.
He bites angrily, the blood terror absolved,
the crowd omits a sigh of relief.
We don’t know when to return here, or there,
the guilt of a vacancy from work, family ties,
the luggage heavy with burdens and gifts,
I can’t wait to set it all down and finally cry.
Melissa Wabnitz Pumayugra (She/Her) is a Texas writer who enjoys a tall tale and a medium iced coffee. Her work centers around identity and cultural phenomena. Her photography and writing can be found on twitter (mel_the_puma), Hobart, Blood Orange Review, Emerson Review, Shirley Magazine, and in many other publications scattered throughout the globe.
Outstanding. a different perspective. sad too, too sad. so natural, yet so foreign.