Pregnancy Poem: Stretch Marks

I JUST saw this poem for the first time, and felt that it goes really, really, really well with my earlier post about stretch mark belly oil.  But it’s long enough that I decided to make it its own entry instead of adding it on to one that I had already published.

I Wear My Stretchmarks Like Tattoos

to show

I am a woman

whose belly has billowed

a mainsail on a pirate ship

on its way to treasure

a queen-size-bed topsheet

on a new clothesline in March

they make

silver parentheses

around my freckled navel

tiny river tributaries

from the cold spring of my joy

pattern rising to the touch

like fired-rice-grain china

and oh

the way the sunlight catches

above my hipline skirts

when the music births itself again

and I start moving I start

moving and with my daughter

Katharyn Howd Machan

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