I am sorry I yelled
sorry I swore
sorry my rage built a weapon
and ran tests with it on you
over the phone --
an ancient technique
of chemical warfare.
I guess I'd had enough
of the words "weight" and "goal"
and "focus". I wanted you
to visit your grandson but you went
to your boyfriend's instead.
Where will I find you, mother?
When will I trust
your arms to hold me
your words to comfort me?
Or now that I am mother, you grand
mother, are you finished caring
for me gently? What mistakes am I bound
to, what same tragedy do I play across my
own son's stage?
I asked nicely many times,
begged you to listen,
let slide the painful words.
Now I am again with child
and disappointment rings unmistakeable
in your voice. This child
listens, swells red with rage,
and screams across the wire.
She will break the cycle
and the will
and the fall.
Like a waterfall in slow motion, Part One
2 years ago
No comments:
Post a Comment