46/365

November 14, 2011

You’ve been sweeping it under your feet for so long–
your mother’s vacant eyes, her bony lap.
your sister’s hunger, her ceaseless tears.
your father’s lack.
you are worn and shaking searching for relief–
your body tangled around a lover’s hips
as if she could rebirth you, unmake the past.
as if her room-less body creates a home.
ever you are left alone,
still reaping all the pain your mother sowed.
You keep praying for rain
through the window of your fingers to your face.

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