I did not like to be held as a child trapped in my mother's lap. Her arms constricting, every fidget of my body. Nowhere for my head to go, except the shallow blanket of flesh and bone cradling her hummingbird heart. It beat like a windstorm. It shifted And could gush like molasses or spit like lighting and no matter what I could not move just lay there eyes wide open, feeling everything a child shouldn’t It did not mean I did not love her I just hated thinking, that’s al