an ode to other mothers
one night at bath time,
my mother tries scrubbing
the brown out of me, grating
a ridged sponge over & over
my skin, until
i'm crying & raw, flesh
still brown, but now
tinged pink. my nanny,
Renata,
stops her.
in private, Renata tucks me
in, she whispers, your mother
she's ... off ... sometimes, don't
mind her. for years,
Renata saved me, taking me
out to feed ducks
at the pond. a mother
is not a mother
because she gives birth. a mother
is birthed
when she sees
her child not as the smallest
matryoshka doll buried
deep inside, not
an exact tinier replica, not
someone to carve. a mother
is birthed
when she sees her child
as flesh, bone, skin,
& imperfectly perfect.
Karo Ska (she/they) is a South Asian & Eastern European non-binary femme, migrant poet, living on occupied Tongva Land (aka Los Angeles) with their black cat muse. Anti-capitalist & anti-authoritarian, they find joy where they can. Their first chapbook, "gathering grandmothers' bones" was released on February 29th, 2020. For updates, follow them on instagram @karoo_skaa or check out their website karoska.com.