All of my children have different mothers.

I was 22 and blank before my
daughter was born.
(I used to have a steady heartbeat
and a firm handshake.)
But the instant of her birth, I was
branded, shattered,
and reshaped into something with
specific lines.
The process repeated each time
I had a baby.
Now my insides are tattooed
with a thousand tattoos
that are hard to distinguish, even for
me, unless I really concentrate.
(Nothing is firm anymore; my heart
often skips a beat.)