I took my mother’s tooth, I needed bones. She pushed me

a month early, she needed joy. An understanding

to take what’s needed without asking, without needing to,

even before birth. Crouched on a couch, she crochets 

veins to protect me. I become hope, before a body. Fattening her

heart with promise. A foetus learns language in the womb. Silence 

meant rage. Piercing my placenta, forming cysts of suppression.

I replied with itches against sheer skin. She soothed me. Clawing herself,

creating upward trails. She said, for you I’ll pray