Saturday, December 12, 2015

roses in December

Life changes fast. Life changes in the instant. You sit down to dinner and life as you know it ends.
--Joan Didion, The Year of Magical Thinking

her first scrape on her white knee,
the first tear in her calico skirt.

the first blood stain on girlish pink cotton,
the first inkling of long years of fertility.

her first kiss, filling her flower with its 
first timid blush.

the first rush of blood to her cheeks,
the first throbbing inside her maidenhead

her first betrayal and the first lies,
the first earthquake underneath her feet.

the first wrinkle and the first furrow
of worry on her forehead.

the first grey hair on her head,
the sign that summer will cease one day.

the first pregnancy test,
accompanied by desperate prayers.

her first stretch marks,
and the first ripples of cellulite.

her first skin tag, an invader on her breast,
a week after her grandmother's first mastectomy.

the first time she realized her body would bruise and revolt,
when the world was on the attack,

the first time nature stopped working in her favor,
when the universe was on the offensive

her first childbirth and first child,
the first time her world is utterly shifted

and shattered.
and put back together.

her child's first steps,
like her own, but now remembered.

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