your own skin until I walked in on my mother carving herself like clay molding her body into one of a better woman engraving a grateful smile chiseling away resentment
I watched her pinching away
as if she had not given enough
when I asked her to explain
how she can hand over
clumps of herself and
name it devotion
she parted her lips and said, maybe this time he will love me maybe this time he will leave me either one means I survive
Evelyn Olmos is a poet born in Ciudad Juárez, México and currently living in Albuquerque, NM. She is an MFA candidate at the University of New Mexico.
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