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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=458384" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Motherhood</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">She sat on a shelf, <br>her breasts two bellies <br>on her poked-out belly, <br>on which the navel looked <br>like a sucked-in mouth— <br>her knees bent and apart, <br>her long left arm raised, <br>with the large hand knuckled <br>to a bar in the ceiling— <br>her right hand clamping <br>the skinny infant to her chest— <br>its round, pale, new, <br>soft muzzle hunting <br>in the brown hair for a nipple, <br>its splayed, tiny hand picking <br>at her naked, dirty ear. <br>Twisting its little neck, <br>with tortured, ecstatic eyes <br>the size of lentils, it looked <br>into her severe, close-set, <br>solemn eyes, that beneath bald <br>eyelids glared—dull lights <br>in sockets of leather. </div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>She twitched some chin-hairs, <br>with pain or pleasure, <br>as the baby-mouth found and <br>yanked at her nipple; <br>its pink-nailed, jointless <br>fingers, wandering her face, <br>tangled in the tufts <br>of her cliffy brows. <br>She brought her big <br>hand down from the bar <br>with pretended exasperation <br>unfastened the little hand, <br>and locked it within her palm— <br>while her right hand <br>with snag-nailed forefinger <br>and short, sharp thumb, raked <br>the new orange hair <br>of the infant’s skinny flank— <br>and found a louse, <br>which she lipped, and <br>thoughtfully crisped <br>between broad teeth. <br>She wrinkled appreciative <br>nostrils which, without a nose, <br>stood open—damp holes <br>above the poke of her mouth. </div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>She licked her lips, flicked <br>her leather eyelids— <br>then, suddenly flung <br>up both arms and grabbed <br>the bars overhead. <br>The baby‘s scrabbly fingers <br>instantly caught the hair— <br>as if there were metal rings there— <br>in her long, stretched armpits. <br>And, as she stately swung, <br>and then proudly, more swiftly <br>slung herself from corner <br>to corner of her cell— <br>arms longer than her round <br>body, short knees bent— <br>her little wild-haired, <br>poke-mouthed infant hung, <br>like some sort of trophy, <br>or decoration, or shaggy medal— <br>shaped like herself—but new, <br>clean, soft and shining <br>on her chest.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=May+Swenson">May Swenson</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=458384" data-title="Motherhood de May Swenson" data-description="She sat on a shelf, 
her breasts two bellies 
on her poked-out belly, 
on which the navel looked 
like a sucked-in mouth— 
her knees bent and apart, 
her long left arm raised, 
with the large hand knuckled 
to a bar in the ceiling— 
her right ..."></div>
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