A gaping hole wider than our planet’s surface
Grows inside her
and I watch
Yearning to pick her up in my wide arms and rock her back to whole
Benched on the side lines
I watch the game over and over
Screaming out profanities play after play
But…
it’s not mine
Not mine to play
Not mine to watch
Not mine at all
So I walk off the field
Hoping
Reminding myself to trust
The player
Her ability to fill that hole
Without me.
Sonia Chintha is an Indian American writer who lives in the Washington DC area. She blogs, writes poetry, and fiction. She is also an English teacher who believes that our experiences teach us more than any test. She is the founder and co-editor of Good Little Girls.
I may not have the stretch marks, well actually I do, but not on my stomach. I may not have the C-section scar from hip
A soft coastal breeze sweeps open the back of my eyelet crop top and I lean into the table fluttering my eyes. Behind me, Miami’s city
