Not my own
Arms constrict this
Body, burdened with
Carving out childhood
From a huge piece of life
With a tiny butter knife
Chafed from instinct
Persisting
At the edge of her
Sinew by sinew slicing
Further than
The flesh leaving crusted
Anguish stripes
Separating at the surface
New mother
A diminutive arabesque
Comforting every childish inch
Exposing bright stones
Here you say, There you whisper
I slide fingernails to flake
The crimson
Revealing new skin
Christina Marie Speed lives in Brooklyn, New York with her husband and two sons. She co-edits the Literary Reflections Department of Literary Mama. Ms. Speed has poetry at Vox Poetica, a column at Moondance and work forthcoming at Dogzplot. Come visit: christinamariespeed.com