Pants

My momma keeps a pair
Of cut, bloody pants
Underneath the laundry hamper,
And a piece of an umbilical
Cord in a ziplog baggie
In a cigar box with a
Printed Chinese
Model on the top,
And she dedicates it all to me.
My first set of baby teeth,
Glued methodically to an
Index card, pictures of
Extinct blond curls,
A little kissable puddle of
Pouty lips,
My birth and my near death,
A cigar box and a laundry hamper.