Worthy
by Liona Burnham
Thanks to Amelia Nagoski and Emily Nagoski
Soft, my toddler says, pets my tummy,
and leans in to nurse in the dark.
My belly: a squishy cantaloupe,
maybe something bigger.
I celebrate this crumpled skin,
stretched three times to shelter babies.
I kiss my daughter’s head,
and breathe to my belly,
expectations floating into night
for now.
Often, I hand over my worth
to the black scale on a white tile floor.
Yet I am not an Instagram influencer
or movie star, slipping out of satin,
the dress a blue pool on a white rug.
My body carries me up mountains
and under firs birthed from the forest floor
before my grandmothers first walked.
My body swims in cool lakes on hot days.
It curls around my toddler at night,
cuddles on the couch, and pulls my teen in
for a last hug before bedtime.
Here in the dark,
I might be an old cat, stomach sagging,
but my body creates
milk, love,
a place to come home.
Soft, my toddler says, pets my tummy,
and leans in to nurse in the dark.
My belly: a squishy cantaloupe,
maybe something bigger.
I celebrate this crumpled skin,
stretched three times to shelter babies.
I kiss my daughter’s head,
and breathe to my belly,
expectations floating into night
for now.
Often, I hand over my worth
to the black scale on a white tile floor.
Yet I am not an Instagram influencer
or movie star, slipping out of satin,
the dress a blue pool on a white rug.
My body carries me up mountains
and under firs birthed from the forest floor
before my grandmothers first walked.
My body swims in cool lakes on hot days.
It curls around my toddler at night,
cuddles on the couch, and pulls my teen in
for a last hug before bedtime.
Here in the dark,
I might be an old cat, stomach sagging,
but my body creates
milk, love,
a place to come home.
Liona T. Burnham has poems published or forthcoming in The Comstock Review, Allium, Rock Paper Poem, Crab Orchard Review, Sky Island Journal, and more. Her poems won the Northern Virginia Review’s Poetry Prize and were nominated for Best of the Net. She teaches English and journalism at a community college. She lives with her husband, three daughters, two cats, and one hamster in the Pacific Northwest.