still drawing blood

my mother told me,
she says,
while gently shaving
her slender white
legs, resting an
arched foot
on the white
porcelain
edge of a still
warm bathtub,
she told
me that i had
piano legs.
she says, raising
her eyebrows
in disbelief,
can you believe
she had the nerve
to say something
like that to her
only daughter,
she looks at me
turning her head,
and nicks herself,
drawing blood
in the process. oh
damn, she says.