Magic Show
I decorated your room like an enchanted realm
hoping it would all feel like a dream
when you woke up.
A magician put you in the slicing box.
He cut you in half,
I am sure I saw him do it.
But when the box opened,
you were in one piece
and he said your heart
is not broken anymore.
Then fairies flew in
on their shimmering wings
and sprinkled some dust into tubes
and waived wands over your forehead
and returned you to me.
*****
My Womb
When I lost you
I fell to my knees
and wailed
on my wall to wall carpeted floor
like I had seen the Iranian women do
in the dusty streets.
I expected an answer.
It did not come.
It still has not come.
And so my womb hangs hollow,
echoing my screams back to me
like the hawk’s
over the endless canyon.
*****
I Will Die
The voices of your classmates
bounce off the school walls.
The whelps of their games ride
under the wings of a black crow.
The crow carries their joy with him,
away from my sad memory.
Someday you will say of me that
she is not in pain anymore,
may she rest in peace.
Then it will be your turn,
and theirs, too.
Someone will bury or burn
your remains.
Your brother made me promise
to bury him not burn him
when he dies.
I did not have the heart to tell him,
I will die first.
*****
Motherhood Passing By
There was a time
when having you
at my breast was enough.
I wrapped around you
and promised
that there would be
no harm.
And when that promise was shattered
by your father’s rage
and my selfishness
you fell apart.
Now I crave anything but you
and you beg me to play.
I know that soon
you will not ask for me.
You will soon seek pleasures
everywhere but home,
just like your father did.
Chasing the escape
of a cheap ass and a cheap high.
I can see you on the street,
just like the discarded teenagers
in front of the corner store,
begging for money
with wounded eyes that give away the truth
that you will not use it to buy food.
Still, I can not bring myself
back to you.
You stab me with hate
and I want to run from you
and hide in sex and wine.
I want to watch the Joshua trees
stream past fast
from the back of a motorcycle.
I watch us divide
like water
to a drowning woman
who can see the hand offered
just above the surface
but knows anyway
that she will die.
There is no remedy
for our demise.
And while I watch
this tragic ending
and consider how
I might try harder to save us,
it just hurts
too damn much
and so I let you go.
I can hear you
calling for me still
Mom…Mom…Mom!
I grimace and shudder
and wish that your voice
was already a memory.
Each time I choose some pastime
other than you,
your voice shrinks fainter
and I know soon
I will not hear you at all.
Then you will stop calling
for me altogether.
And I will be sad
but relieved.
*****
Lost Child
The waves wrap sunlight into glowing rolls.
You are at the edge
between land and water
where the sand is eternally wet and cool,
soaked countless times
by a relentless tide
lashing in and back out.
You are lost
in a castle you made
just like I was
when I was small
and able to forget,
like you.
There is no measuring here,
time marked only
by the ticking
of the waves
as they crash.
Most days
we are hiding
from the virus,
from the protests.
You wait.
I am not sure for what.
Hours with videos about people
doing more interesting things
than you can do here.
I keep you safe
from the things
I am supposed to
while I endanger you
every day
that you are locked home.