When the baby doesn't sleep

When the baby doesn't sleep
I cuss and slam the doors
I cry, "I am the Babe
Destroyer of Sleep
Ruiner of ambition
Bringer of despair!"

I scream and throw things
He screams too
We scream at each other

And then I stomp away
To the closet where I keep the sheets
I fling open the doors
Grabbing at the stack of towels
The old ones Grandma gave me to clean baby messes
(because, when you're young, all your towels are new)
I bury my face into the threadbare terrycloth
and sob and scream, chest heaving
and I smell my grandmother

And she is here, with her baby
Crying tears that burn
And her baby is here too, with her baby
In the middle of the night
And we're all screaming together
Banging our fists against the wooden slats
The baby, the mother, the grandmother, the great-grandmother
And I am not alone

I go back to my baby
Draw him from the crib
And wrap him in the crocheted afghan
That my mother used to wrap me in

We rock and rock and rock
as he sobs, tiny chest heaving
and I whisper,
"It's ok, I'm here."