Womanhood and other scary things
OR: Motherhood and other scary things

Two days ago my sister called me mamma at the dinner table and my stomach did flips, not in
the gooey way as though I was being kissed with passion, but like I was going to throw-up
my organs, but not food, since I hadn’t had any food, since I didn’t want cold mac-n-cheese
or plastic cups of children-sized fruit, those leftover cans of boyardee, boy oh gee says the
youngest of six, but that red sauce looks like blood nowadays and they gobble it like breastmilk

Two days ago you’re my mommy said like it was true and my eyes got salty, not from the sea
whom I love like a father, but not my father with sharp hands no, the one with waves oh so gentle
but sister sister, she laughed out this statement not knowing it held a graveyard behind it,
held a great lake of drowned anxiety, shoved down and fallen deep with great rocks tied
to their tootsie toes this little piggy love is scary and so is the idea of being so close to hate

Angela M. Hyde is a writer and an undergraduate student from Wheaton College, MA. Originally hailing from New Hampshire, her work has been published in Scholastic, from which she won several awards, including a Gold Key. Her poetry focuses on her rural childhood, and her identity as a queer woman.