Fingers graze 


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 


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!