Baby Blues, and: Falso Cognato

Baby Blues, and: Falso Cognato Natalie Scenters-Zapico (bio) Baby Blues Doctors pull a buoyant body from meand say: Nurse! I drape my son acrossmy plastic taped incision and let him grind my nipples with his Epstein pearls.People ask: Is it true you couldn't birthyour son between your legs in a barn? I say: it hurts between my legsjust talking about it. The moon smilesa kid-friendly grin, and I wonder which finger Mary used to breakher god's latch. I'm no Mary.I chose to have a baby in what my doctor calls a geriatric age.I chose to have a child the yearthe state called me Incubator. Like Mary I can't stop crying.My doctor says: Call this numberif you get the baby blues. I pull a cartoon smile from ear to ear.In the dream feed I heara navy-blue voice calling, End Page 65 calling me to drop my tired head.The voice is blue. It calls blue.It blue-calls, blue-calls: No one wants to read about a mother.On a walk with the blue stroller,a bird calls: No wants to hear about the mother unless it's from the child.I swaddle my son in a blanket so blueit becomes a river blue, unlike the brown rivers of my childhood.The brown rivers of my childhoodthat swallow mothers and their children under currents woven in blue blood.From the blue river I've wrappedaround his infant body, from the streetlights that tint his room blue, a blue voicecalls me. It calls blue, calls blue:Don't write about becoming a mother. Don't write about being a mother.Don't write. Don't write again,you mother— End Page 66 Falso Cognato Language is a mirror I never tire of looking into.Every day I fall headfirst into its red.Spanish is a trap. English is a diversión.One makes me the most beautiful woman,the other tells me to shut my snout, ugly dog.It's no one's falta I feel regalo in oneand buy my groserías with the other.English and Spanish hold hands and ask meto apreciarlos more. I look into language's mirrorfor a perfect reflection. I get the cognates rightby getting them all wrong. I'll only buy a mirrorif it makes me skinny-mini. I can't imagine holdingmy reflection without making sure it doesn't give mea jowl. My mind won't stop humming. I blameall this language I don't know how to speakrunning mangled in my head. I'm no villain.I'm willing to mediate between Spanish and Englishso they'll remember, if they ever stop yelling,that portraits tend to favor the dead. Lenguaje es un espejo en el que nunca canso de mirarme. Todos los días caigo de cabeza en su grid. El español es una trampa. El inglés es una diversion. Uno me hace la mujer más bella, el otro me dice que me calle el hocico, perra fea. No es falta de nadie que me siento regal en una y compro mis groceries con el otro. End Page 67 Inglés y español se toman de la mano y me pidenque los appreciate más. Me miro en el espejo del lenguajepara ver un reflejo perfecto. Entiendo bien los cognadosentendiéndolos mal. Solo comprare un espejosi me pone mini-flaca. No puedo imaginar mirara mi reflejo sin asegurarme de que no me deuna papada. Mi mente no deja de tararear. Yo culpotodo este idioma que no dé hablarcorriendo destrozado en mí cerebro. No soy ningún antagonista.Estoy dispuesta a mediar entre español y ingléspara que recuerden, cuando paren de gritar,que los retratos suelen favorecer a los muertos. End Page 68 Natalie Scenters-Zapico natalie scenters-zapico** is the recipient of fellowships from the Lannan and Poetry Foundations. Her third book, My Perfect Cognate, is forthcoming in 2025. Copyright © 2024 Yale...