Apology to My Step-Mother

I had to live inside you
to    call     you      Mother.
I snuck inside
through your mouth
from a peek-a-boo baby kiss,
hid beneath your larynx.
Dry heaving,
you had to birth me
8:36 am every day.
One hundred and three pounds
of your self
getting heavier.
Your starvation diet:
crackers, water, salad.
Thirty years
before you could call
another child
yours. I possessed you,
settled inside your
growing place
for nine years and
blocked any mass of cells
that tried to make it
to the womb.
I am the reason
for the white stitched line
on your stomach,
the procedure that stole
your first child from your tubes,
the parasitic growth
that almost killed you,
but I had to
live inside you
to call you
Mother.

Sosha Pinson is a 24-year-old poet living in Fairfax, Virginia. She is originally from Pikeville, Kentucky. She is attending Drew University’s Low-Residency MFA Program in Poetry. Recently her poems have been featured in Still: The Journal and pluck! The Journal of Affrilachian Arts & Culture.

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