If I ever have a daughter We will sit by her bed at night Sing a song that we co-write –These are my arms They are good arms I use them to (fill in the blank)– We will roadtrip through our bodies Drift around ankles Hug tightly to curves Slow down over bumps and ridges Name them and be not afraid of ourselves I have never seen my mother’s stomach But if it’s anything like the top of her shoulders It’s a galaxy of freckles 8-children’s worth of ribbon curl folds and Hills and valleys and deep veins of ore that we were forged from Carried within like we were on her starry-sloped shoulders A home before we knew that her hands would not always be ours If I ever have a daughter I will pull my shirt up every night We will count the stretch marks I will let her drive her hot wheels Down the scars that made her And the ones that were there before she came –This is my belly It is a good belly I use it to carry you always–
About the Author: Savannah Lauren is a poet and photographer living in Bushwick, Brooklyn, New York. The Bushwick part is very important to her, as are her small fox-dog, Morello, Vietnamese summer rolls, and the way the sun hits her disco ball in the winter. You can find her on twitter @sava_laur and on instagram @savannahlaurenphoto
Image Credit: Joaquín Sorolla “Mother” (1895) Public domain image courtesy of Artvee
As It Ought To Be 