CHAPTER 6 — The Loop
Five days later,
everyone else has left the hospital.
I’m still there,
caught in the loop:
feed, change —
repeat.
My head is like a Rolodex.
I didn’t sleep.
I didn’t rest.
Digest.
Change.
Repeat.
The rule follower.
I lose his bangles on his ankles every day.
I have to go through the bins —
the disgusting nappy bins —
to find his bracelets.
Because that’s the rule.
So I follow.
In a drugged-taste dream,
I wake up.
Someone come take me away from this place.
I had seen so many babies,
but I did not know
how they got to the place.
I go home.
And the vortex rolls.
The vortex swells.
I haven’t slept.
I don’t have enough blood.
I don’t know what I’m doing.
I put on my mask:
Mum.
I can be Mum.
Stitches are infected.
I have piles —
even though I don’t know what they are.
My back is broken.
The veins and stretch marks
have crept all over my body.
I resemble a tree.
My arms hurt.
I try to pull myself away,
but my legs are so numb and heavy,
I hurt myself more.
Just when you think it couldn’t get worse,
I go home.

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