Daughter of None

The edge of my lip is a mouth
and they, the swallowed few:
a jumper, a thumper, a man eating supper.

And I, the daughter that was entombed
by rose-petaled lips,
came screaming,
and beaming,
and teething

upon the thighs of my mother,
and one left undiscovered: a lover –

for which I, the daughter of some,
carry strapped on my back
the bed I heavy hearted against.

And I, the daughter of none
smiles into frowns:
tipsytopsys, turns over
and under, and down.

Graves become hats,
caves become laps,
and I, a hole to be filled.

A girl of many, a daughter of some:
lay a kiss on my lips
to swell all these bellies
with batter and babies.

Yours will be
a promise of tomorrow,
heard like a forgotten word
upon the tongue, that I,
daughter of none, has undone.