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Flinching

At sixteen, she expects me

to ask before I hug her,

to seek a dispensation

for any kiss. Tender to me

in every way except for this

curfew of a mother’s touch.

Now, as she crouches upon

the bathroom tiles, weak

from a sudden upset stomach,

I wait until she nods OK

to my request to press

one hand upon her forehead,

to rub her back and shoulders~~

my way of showing a daughter

how to overcome those spells

when a body flinches and rebels.

.

.

.

ABOUT THIS POEM

This poem was triggered by a photograph Embracing Self by Tiffany Teske (her blog  HERE).  An earlier version of the poem was first published on March 3, 2009,  on the daily prompt blog  Every Photo Tells a Story.

This poem benefited from the feedback of my critique buddy Dr. RL.

SOUND & SENSE

When I compose a poem, I strive to craft a passage of spoken language in which sound is at least as alluring as sense.

FACT & FICTION

This poem is autobiographically factual. I have my daughter’s consent to publish this poem.

.

About ThereseLBroderick

Independent community poet living in Albany, New York USA.

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