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.