Mornings begin with my mother

I undress and she inspects my body. Searches for new additions to my skin: bumps, flickering bruises, an open mouth to a fresh wound. I see a wish in her eyes: she wants to take my skin, lay it flat like a shirt drying crisp in the sun. She longs for the map / is tired of my body, a globe spinning and spinning and spinning on its tired axis. Women broken from their boyfriends are not dreaming of babies, a child sick under their hands. My mother did not ever expect these mornings. She is making up for all the days she did not want to know. Now, reading the whole story, like ancient drawings on a cavern wall.

Milo Muise is a recent college grad and New Englander currently living in OR. Their poems have appeared in FreezeRay and elsewhere. They have a tiny Internet presence at: You can also find them keeping up with the Kardashians.