a letter to my future daughter | poetry by Victoria Rego

a letter to my future daughter

who would be one-one-thousandth red-bellied newt and one-one-thousandth tawny owl : smell always of honeysuckle juice caught between forefinger and thumb : your head would swivel in all directions : a fine trait for learning the constellations : my future daughter you : would be an expert in traditional astrology : would know sun : moon : ascendant : signs by feeling elbows : touching the grooves there : we would name this cubitomancy : open a mother-daughter divinatory service : sell consultation sessions on instagram : to girls with dry ponytails and the remnant : of blue eyeshadow caked around their lashes : I would take you everyday to some ocean : lake : or stream : slather your new body with sunscreen : your fat rolls like jelly cakes kneaded smooth : between my fingers : watch you snake : belly down through the water communing with rocks : watch you run down the waves : throw cymbals into the sky : gifting this world with a series of suns : this love rubs me raw : like my knees now covered in blisters and scabs : from too much time spent at the altar praying : to myself because when you : my daughter look at me I must become : something new and old : grow hair to my knees : craft books into a ladder : I can climb : searching for a gift to give you a hero’s relic or amulet : secret knowledge inked on lilac paper : body positive pants sewn together with gold : or a key to unlock all the doors : I hear drinking rosemary tea induces contractions : maybe this is why I give birth to you every seven days : assume posture on hands and knees to push you out : except sometimes : when I feel you coming : nudge you backwards so softly with my palm : whisper stay with me : a little while because when you finally emerge : I want you to see : how I control the wind : conjure rainstorms when I pick up the phone : dine with all our dead : name every variety of herb : suffer no pain : can explain with detail how to take a mountain as lover : how to find faces in tree or lichen and make a pasta dinner to suit every mood : a kind of language the literati haven’t translated : how I can tie a cherry stem with my tongue : am unafraid of heights or whales or what happens : after death : will have painted your nursery a garden of delights : will have read the entire gutenberg e-library collection : have discovered the secret to earning a living : without selling my soul : know a tincture recipe to heal your tender : broken heart : I want to be known as the mother : whose hands never rest : but still there is always one open : for you 

Beeper Peddle is a writer and healer living on the East Coast. She lives with her partner and their beloved soul puppy. Beeper writes about sorrows, lies, and deep loves. When you read her work, you will dip down into her heart and end up in all manner of body parts. Should you find yourself reflected in these words, it is merely coincidence; however, it does not surprise her you share the same heart. Find her at bethpeddle.com and @beeperpeddle on Twitter and Instagram

Tori Rego is a queer writer from Charleston, South Carolina. She currently lives in Chicago and would like to bake you a pie.