While Breastfeeding My Newborn Daughter, I Watch Tarantino Movies

by Audrey Walls

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I should have named her Jackie or Mia. Maybe Beatrix. Maybe Melanie, my little surfer girl. I should have guessed that this much violence wouldn’t faze me. She fits and starts, latching with her toothless mouth. She pulls at my nipple like pink taffy. I love you, honey bunny. These are the hardest days. The nurses said they pass so quickly, another morning, another night, the continual rounds of piss and shit. It is a different movie. Behind her tufted head, Brad Pitt scalps a Nazi. Or maybe now it’s  Uma jolted back to life.  That black wig.  All that adrenaline and blood. Either way, I don’t flinch.  I could tell you a horror story. It starts like this.