What the Body Carries
Delicious tushy. That’s what you had.
The grandmas couldn’t get enough. Your thighs too –
a fistful of pulkies, chubby chicken legs.
Your tush is now a butt, delicious still
but I don’t say a word, don’t even
call you baby. This is the right thing,
I suppose, not to squeeze my girl’s
behind. I wonder if your body
remembers all that focus and fuss
at the plump rise under a blanket,
or the bounce in a run from the bath. Gone
such complete possession.
Hands in lap, unsettled,
I learn new words, give you space,
chill. Petrified that anyone will touch you
there, watch you move down the street.
So covered these days, so shut-door.
Will you open when ready, call back
the glee at your yummiest spots?
Keep close to your skin the early cherish,
make it happen again.
from The Mom Egg, June 2010, Volume 8