Don't you think you should have another child?
This girl I have is hardtack and dried lime
and reminds me, every groggy morning,
what a miracle it must have been
when outfitters learned to stock ship holds
with that one long lasting fruit. How the sailors' tongues,
landing on its bitter brilliance, must have cursed
the curse of joy, as I did that morning the burst
of water brought my sweet girl into our lives.

But, already, she hates me sometimes.
Like I have sometimes hated my mother and she
must have sometimes hated her own.

After weeks at sea, the limes would desiccate and the meal
fill with worms. They would have eaten
anyway, the sailors, but taken no pleasure from anything.
Or taken no pleasure from anything but
the fact of their sustained lives. Which is to say it is all
I can do, most days, not to swallow
her up and curse her maker, I swear. Like I have not
sworn since the morning she was born.


About this poem
"This poem is part of a series in which I try to honestly address some of the complicated questions I'm confronted with as a mother. It's also not the only poem in which I contemplate the complexities of the seafaring life. More proof that our oceans harbor all kinds of treasure, perhaps."
-Camille T. Dungy

About Camille T. Dungy
Camille T. Dungy is the author of "Smith Blue" (Southern Illinois University Press, 2011) and two other collections. She teaches at Colorado State University and lives with her family in Fort Collins, Colo.

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(c) 2015 Camille T. Dungy. Originally published by the Academy of American Poets, www.poets.org. Distributed by King Features Syndicate