Side by side on the edge of her bed
she hitches up her nightie
as part of the nightly ritual
and then places her hands, one on top of the other
over the top of her bared thigh
so as to imply
“not yet, I’m not ready yet”
and every night the mother waits with patience born of love
and the girl born from her
takes a deep breath and her hands away
and the mother takes the plunge
and feels the pain as if it were her own flesh being pierced
while her flesh and blood gasps and flinches and says
“I’m sorry, that was a bad one"
and the mother says “It’s okay, it’s done”
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