a poem on mummys tumm
Answers
I can't find my kitten have you swallowed the cat?
That's my brother in there? yeah that's a maybe,
But your mouth must be huge if you swallowed a baby,
How did he get in there? and how will he get out,
Can I play with him? stick my toys in your mouth?
Won't it mess up his clothes when you eat your food,
What! there's no clothes, are you saying he's nude?
Won't he get cold? how does he cover his willy?
I think you're fibbing, mummy you are so silly,
Was I really in there, five years ago in December?
No... if that had of happened I think I'd remember.
hope this helps u......^_^
❣ᴘᴏᴇᴍ❣
❥The bread of her waist, a loaf
we would knead with 8 year old palms
sweaty from play. My brother and I marvelled
at the ridges and grooves. How they would summit at her navel.
How her belly looked like a walnut. How we were once seeds
that resided inside.
We giggled whenever she would recline on the couch,
lift her shirt, unbutton her pants, let her belly spread like cake batter in a pan.
It was as much a treat as licking the sweet from electric mixers on birthdays.
The undulating of my mother’s belly was not
a shame she hid from her children. She knew
we came from this. Seemed grateful.
Her belly was a gift we kept passing between us.
It was both hers, of her body
and ours for having made it new, different.
Her belly was an altar of flesh built in remembrance
of us, by us.
What remains of my mother’s belly
resides in a container of ashes I keep in a closet.
Every once and again, I open the box,
sift through the fine crystals with palms
that were once eight. Feel the grooves and ridges
that do not summit now but rill through fingers.
Granules that are so much more salt
that sweet today. And yet, still I marvel
at her once body. Even in this form say,
“I came from this.”