The World in My Mouth

after Sharon Olds’ “My First Weeks”

I had the world in my mouth at the outset, sniffed out Mother, took her in with first breaths, learned to latch while her eyes said, it’s all yours to consume. Drink up, drink up. All this before the formula folk click-clacked up the hall with their promise of life from a tin. They were fast but Mother was always faster and she had the life inside her. Later, I had the world in my hands—a newborn sniffing me out—and I offered, as Mother had, everything the baby wanted. I did this two more times. Mother was gone then so Father weighed in. “Some say that after each birth you’re left with a hole in your middle.” And when he said “some say” he meant “I believe” but didn’t want to sound arrogant or stray too far from what Jesus might have ever said. But I can say I believe. Who can’t feel the rough edges of these holes when you once had the world in your mouth or in your hands in some way? I watch now for how to fill the holes. Do you wonder sometimes what is left to put inside?

Photo by Aslı Yılmaz on Unsplash