The Bad Mother

The Bad Mother does not flinch when her son arrives on the doorstep, but when he suckles at her breast it is as if salt is poured in the wound. She screams and cries out and weeps as he feeds, knowing only she can nourish him well enough to line his gut. And when the pain subsides, and they finally sleep, her milk soaks through the bedsheets, sour-ing b…