trails
by anonymous

the varicose veins lead down my legs
in clumps and knots
tales of two pregnancies
standing on my feet.

working all day running between jobs
then the endless washing of dishes at home
the sink too high even to sit at a stool.
the soap suds scrape my skin
leaving only the dishes clean.

still when I lift or push anything large
I feel the muscles of the last birth,
torn without healing
while he prepared his
public religious event for the baby
too busy to care for his clinging toddler
and permit me to rest and recover

now I have two children climbing on me
laughing in my lap
climbing on me like a warm tree
slipping hands around my skin.
he can’t even give them $60 a week.

now he pushes me into his car
shoving my body at his hard male places
saying he misses me and hates me
and thinks only of my body
as if this is supposed to make me return.