When Grandmother died...Mother wasn't the same

She surrenders faith
and love using mechanical pencils
nonfat words with heavy dose of steroids
won’t harm her creativity
she peels her culture like orange
slices it up with a sharp tongue
circles her mother’s tomb with question marks
prays she will be resurrected someday in a beautiful orange gown
she grabs me by the throat to make me see how her mother died
on top of a valley in Tijuana
she held on to empty medicine bottles
Swallowing air for cure
“Don’t let me die! Don’t let me die!” she yelled to the doctors
I stood restless
Trapped in a box of stool softeners
She returns back home
Penniless
Motherless
Envies the maternal instinct I carry under my belly
I offer her what she never had from her mother
All my nights and days of writing
Desperately reaching for her affection
She refuses my humility
Takes off with tears of regret
©2007 by C. Delaleu

When Grandmother died...Mother wasn't the same

Femmesoleil

Joined November 2008

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