by Rachel Jeffcoat 

I see her as through a glass, darkly –                                             
self-creating, spinning free.                                                            
Her pelvic floor’s intact. No spilling                                    

out over waistbands or promises.
She’s the centre of her universe;                                       
at night she sleeps, secure in her own gravity.                 

Now, I make worlds for others.                                           
Hands chapped and raw, I’m towed to beds                    
at midnight by their waves of need.                                  

My borders are porous. I exhale myself                            
into unswept corners; lose parts,                                       
forget to feel. My light and darkness mingled.                 

She taps the glass, shines a lamp at my feet:                    
shows me the view from my hard-won ground –             
the earth iridescent, ferocious with love,                          

its glory round about us.
We made this, she says. Look what we made.                   
It is good. It is good. It is good.  

Rachel Jeffcoat | @makealongstoryshort | @longstorytweet
Rachel Jeffcoat is a writer and editor based in Berkshire, UK. She has written for Selfish Mother, Fourth Trimester Magazine, Talk Mum and What To When not writing at midnight or reading whenever she has a hand free, she can be found on Instagram and Twitter

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