Let Down

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3am with a bottle-
feeding
in a room with no view.

Pouring rain drums on the ceiling
Like impatient fingers on a diner counter
Waiting

My breasts no longer tingle with needles.
They do not pour,
They do not weep.

Irrational sensations of inadequacy
Storm away in my chest
As the rhythm of rain
And the fullness of formula
Lull my baby back to sleep.

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