My body is a site of charitable giving.

It has spent its day jiggling up and down the streets with a winning smile,

rattling its contents,

hoping for, willing, sleep at its breast in return.

It offers open arms:

toddler alms,

Spills milk over infant cries.


So the eve, for this Eve, brings a feeling of weariness,


And when Adam returns to the fold, wanting his share,

I am tempted by pudding.


Something had to give.

This time it’s him.


But as we trade places, negotiate a do-si-do,

in our dance of give and take,

I feel my endless, porous, generous body

receive most wholly,

when it gives in, gives up… gives out.


So I recount my day’s takings –

find myself rich.


  • Not sure how you keep the lovely words tumbling!

    • zoequick

      thanks Sara… methinks it’s the breastmilk… these emotions are a little overwhelming at times… and I keep feeling the need to make sense of them!

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