Every week the same
uncomfortable slab of metal and plastic from the
public park bench leaves
diamond-shaped imprints on my legs.
A woman sits down next to me to join my tribe,
I’ve never seen her here before and
my mouth opens to speak our familiar maternal tongue
but my words are lacking.
I hear screams from my wild-boy across the terrain as he has
defended his territory with a stick from an outsider.
We at the park bench lift our newly marked legs and begin the common dance
of fixing the wounds of our young with age-old remedies.
We talk about the different folk stories passed down
wondering which are myths. I meet her clan.
The boys continue their primitive play and we go back to our
hut of food and supplies.
This public terrain feels less and
less foreign when others from the
village receive their diamond-shaped imprints, the
Tattoo of the Motherhood Tribe.
Lori Barker is a City transcriber turned creative writer. She left her transcribing job to stay at home with her son, who inspires most of her writing. She can be found on Instagram @LoriLBarker.