MAYHEM Issue Two – November 2014 ISSN 2382-0322 ______________________________________________________________________________ Faith Wilson Bag o’ Bones My mother wakes up in the mornings, a fleshy wobbling mother, a bosomly mother, she has very big brown nipples and little black hairs stab out from her Samoan calves: they have never been shaved, but her thighs are tattooed. A woman once called my mother rotund, and O! my mother is round, this woman gave her a recipe for a 7 day soup diet and then for a week she was skin and bone, but now she is an O with a figure, and always will be. My mother lies down and like a lover, I lift her shirt slowly so as not to startle her, she is ticklish, and I fondle her stretchmarks, lifelines that span her belly like a hand but harder to read, they are silken and jiggly like tofu, I nuzzle her belly with my entire face, suffocating in her folds I open my mouth over her belly button, pressing down with my tongue I’m a cub again and suck and suck, I eat it all, _____________________________________________________________________________________________ © Copyright remains with the individual author MAYHEM Issue Two – November 2014 ISSN 2382-0322 ______________________________________________________________________________ I get very fat, I suck until a cord like a muscle tongue sticks out, I lure it out with my tongue, and swallow it into my body, and we get very very hungry. We eat the frozen placenta we’ve been saving for a special occasion, our teeth chatter and we pretend we’re enjoying it as you shrink and I grow, shrink and grow, you become so little I swallow you like a sugar pill, you are sweet and do nothing, I swell and spew give birth to you, you come into the world sweet and shining, a bundle of good things, a Christmas hamper, a lolly mixture. You’re so tired from a long day birthing, I place you in your cradle, nestle you into the crook of Dad’s elbow. He rocks-a-bye baby, a dulcet hum, winkles a sweet breath _____________________________________________________________________________________________ © Copyright remains with the individual author Issue Two – November 2014 MAYHEM ISSN 2382-0322 ______________________________________________________________________________ from you, little sigh, you fall asleep, a dolly mixture with all of my faves, you sleep sleep sweetly, Mama, little bag o’ bones. _____________________________________________________________________________________________ © Copyright remains with the individual author
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