I Knew My Worth (originally published on Blood Into Ink)- Kindra M. Austin

I knew my worth when I was hot as fuck and
boys all lined up to
pet my cleft at the blind side of the playground—
dirty fingers
mercifully uneducated in the intricacies of
female anatomy

I knew my worth when I was hot as fuck in
middle school, despite my flat chest and
highly guarded cleft—
face of Helen and an ass that wouldn’t quit,
by the gods, I knew my worth

I knew my worth when I was hot as fuck and
high school boys poorly educated in the delicacies of
female anatomy
petted my cleft with excavating fingers—
I sang hymns for my molested hymen

I knew my worth when I gave birth
two weeks before graduation, and I was in love;
my sweet babe, my savior—
she taught me the truth of my worth

A Mother’s Hands

 

Keeler Pics 151

I keep my knife so sharp that even slicing celery is easy peasy—

none of that skin left frayed at the edges.

My crisp cuts are cleaner than

hers

ever were; and

 

I dice the carrots much quicker than she

ever could do,

even while counting all of the times

she’d combed my hair with her slender fingers.

 

We used to have the same hands;

well-made for cooking, and raking tangles.

 

 

But What About My Brain?

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Teacher of femininity,

unbashful was she;

saw Mother naked often enough, and

couldn’t help but admire

her

small breasts and

well-manicured

mons pubis.

 

She’d bought me a training brah

adorned with ah

pretty pink bow, and

my own

hedge trimmers

when I came of the age—

showed me how to shave my pits and

chicken legs.

 

Tweezers for the brows were

lesson next, then

brown mascara and

plum pigmented

Mary Kay to compliment

my steel blue

irises—

“It’s your eyes that will always get the guys.”