If I Give My Flesh

If I give this flesh,
it comes without reservation or guarantees, an  
imperfect gift to me from my mother’s womb.  
 
Do you see how the shape of my jaw mirrors hers?  
Did you notice the rounded tip of my nose?  
I laugh her laugh when I’m nervous.  
I cry her tears when I'm sad.
 
She would smile at your desire for me, knowing  
I must be an extravagance beyond mere need.  
She would say lust isn’t a strong enough word  
remembering her wishes for a daughter  
before I was born.  
 
All that you desire is now within your grasp.  
I suspect you know my surrender is certain.  
I only ask that you remember my mother in the moment of your coming.  
Listen for her trembling cry of pleasure in my voice.