This one is for my mom.
My Mother’s Body
My mother’s body curves and folds in bold
and bounteous beauty. Her legs are blue-
green webs of spider veins, war badges few
can claim they earned from years they spent on cold
and lonely fronts. Her hands are bent, wrinkled
and pruny from washing ten-thousand loads
of dirty dishes, laundry, and commodes.
Her arms are blanketed with skin crinkled
and white from plate after hot plate that burned
in service to others. Her muscles ache,
bones snap-crackle-pop, keeping her awake.
She can’t see what I see. Her scars were earned
in place of mine. Her sacrifice is there
in lines on her face and gray in her hair.