Drum on my belly

Drum on my belly
There lives little old me

I attended a workshop
“Giving birth to yourself”
Not up for interpretation
Here is a tent
Here is an opening
The vaginal canal
Hope you remember
how to do a backward roll

First we must read journals
we were assigned a week prior

He’s balding
a pot belly and stringy fingers
He’s thirty five
and has a creeping, shaky crush on me
He reads:
Sometimes your mom really is a bitch!

The truth is
I was in love
with my step brother
says the woman next to him

Our organizer reads us one of her poems
With pride:
Childhood is another world
But three years in adulthood
is barely enough to seal a wound

I hide in the tent


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