Being a kangaroo is preferable to being human.
No longer black and blue, but a grey-brown mix as comforting as winter socks . Solid thighs are now an unmocked virtue. My baby is enclosed within me again. As if we are one. His warm heaviness brings me peace.The males box and kick just the same; but only with each other. When the memories rush in uninvited, my kangaroo eyes can’t cry.
I leap and forget.
Published on Paragraph Planet, April 2016