we met two days after her birthday
we planned it all for her
remembering what we had promised
carefully sitting around the table...
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This is the woman who boiled the bones
for your broth, the one who scrubbed the guts
of fish from your arms, the salt of ocean
from your hands, the woman who presses
her face into your shoulder remembering
the talcum smell of your skin...
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Childhood, that sleepy season, hovered at the ceiling.
It fell like a silk net and we wore its colors,
wrestled soundlessly in the soft, rotting cave
where we hid from you,
handed death back and forth like a flashlight. ...
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I remember, too, how she tended our small bodies,
ironed skirts that cupped our legs like bells,
dabbed lotion pink as icing on our scrapes...
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Mother has eyes that draw me in. Like a fish on a squiggly-wormed line, I cannot escape, do not think of escape. Mom, Mama, Mother, Dear, hold me, hug me, love me. ...
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They show us a portrait
of four mystic cells.
In a sterile room,
I am the showcase...
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