MENTORSHIP RECIPIENT

Mentor Commentary:
Jeanette Beebe 

Recipient Reflection: Cam McGlynn

Postpartum Depression

Poetry by ​Cam McGlynn

​The current crooned against my and my baby's backs.
At first, I didn't notice. Thought rip tides would smack
of scornfulness, a taste of brass, not this lulling
to-and-fro, as waves and gulls harmonize their lullabies.
My baby laughed, but I couldn't catch my breath. I forgot
every lesson I was taught: scream for help, float, don’t fight.
I thought the ocean needed me tucked below its hem.
I sank, but lifted her above the water. Again,
I lifted her, but my feet pushed the sand deeper down.
The surface drifted higher. One of us would drown.
Then the rip spat us back to shore, both of us bawling
babies. I wasn’t unique. The ocean was never calling
out for me. I invented siren songs out of an empty breeze--
anything to humanize those vast indifferent seas.

Cam McGlynn

Cam McGlynn is a writer and scientific researcher living outside of Frederick, Maryland. Ever since she was trapped in a deflating moonbounce as a child, she's been deeply suspicious of street fairs. Her work has appeared or is forthcoming in Whale Road Review, Rattle (online), Wildscape, The Shore, and ONE ART, among others. You can find her at pinkpossumclub.bsky.social.