Fingers graze
translucent
raised skin,
while shame
buries in
my twisting gut.
Eyes flicker outwards,
a pink ribbon
pinned on a bag.
The acute scream
of a toddler
calls out.
It brings a memory –
Hospital gowns,
a mother lost. –
“Shhh, baby. You
will never
lose yours.”
Fingers graze
translucent
raised skin,
shame surrenders to
pride and
the gut settles.
Note: This poem is part of our Fall 2020 Print Edition that focuses on Women Health and Sexuality. Look across campus for a paper copy of this edition!
