These are my breasts. They swell and empty like creatures of the tidal pools, except this is the freak show circus of the sea mirrored back to me. For the colors and patterns of my breasts would be garishly yellow and red and polka-dotted. Their bulge is an ideal mast for the moumou, for a…

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This is my hair, my sword and shield, sickle and wheat. Now reborn a lifeline, rope swing, a kite string that tethers tiny hands to a grounded ship. A lighting rod in the sand, an anchor. These are my shoulders, boulders and landslide alike, knotted with the ropey lines of the Future, missteps, catastrophe, death,…

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I often hear new parents, especially new mothers, talk about the importance of self-care. Birth professionals also drive home the need for new mothers to take care of themselves. And while I agree it is important to take care of oneself even while caring for a child, we can also use it against ourselves as…

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