02.11.2008

Ripening (by Rachel Custer, whose blog can be found here)

 

 

This body still fits loose
on me sometimes, like walking at five
in my mother’s high-heeled shoes.

 

 

I watched her bathe, admired
her sensuous soapy curves. Cut
my hairless legs trying to shave.

 

 

In the mirror, I glimpse
her breasts, heavy as fruit
ripening on a vine

 

 

No, not hers, though
so like hers.

Mine.

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