Dropping Out Of The New Mothers’ Group

I drop out realizing we’re a pair 

of mother/child misfits. You, intent on

observation, sitting in place, floppy

and drooly smiled. Me, with my own troubles

keeping my head up, imagine my limited

words sinking against the crowd of high-pitched

verses. Everywhere other babies strive, pulling

their bodies to the unknown. If only we hadn’t been

refused our share of sustenance. Contemplating you,

now slouched and angry, I devise our exit strategy,

which I name–a first time for saving each other.