I stand in the thin cotton gown, opened to the front,
revealing myself. Last night I stood in this very same
position in the dark in my plush white terry robe,
smelling of jasmine, of avocado oil shampoo,
my nipples, which I’m lucky weren’t sliced cleanly off me
like the calyx off a strawberry, dark beacons of beckoning
to my husband who let himself be rough,
his mouth swallowing me, his tongue slashing, a knife
buttering me with his saliva. Now I find myself standing
under fluorescent lights, the surgeon handing me a mirror
to hold as he dictates notes. I watch the reflection
of his fingers tapping expertly around the edges,
the upper lateral and lower quadrants, the posterior,
the implants neatly aligned behind my rosy areolas, shame-
red with survivor’s guilt. I think of my husband’s desire,
how I stared into the darkness as he caressed me,
just as I’m staring into this mirror I was made to hold,
my enormous pupils searching for some reflection
of my own desire for myself.
Published in Cider Press Review, Volume 24, Issue 2.
Maya Bernstein’s writing has appeared in Aesthetica Magazine, the Harvard Business Review, Lilith Magazine, Poetica Magazine, the Stanford Social Innovation Review, Tablet Magazine, and elsewhere. She is on the faculty at Georgetown University’s Institute for Transformational Leadership, and is earning an MFA in poetry from Sarah Lawrence College. Her first manuscript, There Is No Place Without You, is forthcoming from Ben Yehuda Press, in September 2022.
See all items about Maya Bernstein
