Mother’s Contours

the doorbell keeps pestering like a whining child

whose mother’s breast milk is tainted with rain

she lost her features like the warmth the garden

whose bosom is overrun by weeds

like the tides the sea must sacrifice

to become a river

there is no door that can be opened today

only walls that pull a blank like another prayer

marooned on temple footsteps

motherless,

toothless no words to describe

how they wished they were weeded out

when they could

child your cries ought to thin down,

more limber

like the flower of this world, black stemmed

with its corolla half chewed, like fingers

of a leper resemble half burnt plastic, the Rose

is but a mirage you’re playing catch with

yes, you say you share ground with good conscience

but it must be on equal footing lets be clear

neither are you a coward nor foolish

whose good heartedness is the reason

the desert offers nothing angelic

barren breasts, she blames little darling can’t suckle

down comes the whip opening tiny hands

that can barely hold the book of hymns

catch this my child, a glimpse into the future

moments before yellow skull meets soil

you will see your mind as clear

as the cloudless sky incapable

of holding ashes

this is the world you’re born with

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