Mother Figure
I was born to mother,
not to birth, but to mother.
My soft, curved figure with wide, resting place hips and swinging bell breasts nod to illusory labors that I may never give,
but all this love, all this labor, I have to give.
My oh sweetheart instincts pour up to my throat, out from my heart that aches with you, for you, that cheers with you, for you.
Do you need a hand to hold? Let me come to you.
My womb is a hostile place that cannot grow a heart,
but come here honey, let me give you my heart.
About the Author
Chloe Lynn Stehman is a writer from Baltimore, Maryland. Her work has been published in Bartleby and Scribbled.
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