A poem after the prayer ‘Hail Mary’
Hail Madonna,
Full of worry and vibrating hands,
I am not with you,
Now
My body is a weighted river,
Hail Madonna,
Mother of a child adopted by earthquake and aftershock,
Remember your knees in this time,
How to bend them to offer sacrifice to Immanuel,
I am not with you,
Now.
Sometimes mothers are the only thing that can bring you back from the light,
Their hands hold a type of a superpower only they can yield so the first time I almost gave up the ghost, I saw her face godding through all the electricity that sparked outage.
Mothers are the only thing that can bring you back from the light,
Unless they’ve lost their child in an unholy raffle and so the adoption is a hard process of reclaiming, you no longer call it mothering- you call it a barter to keep your child alive by taking them close to the edge of Azrael but not a step further
The barter is one that is easily tipped and so the earth will fill herself with your child’s froth and tears and use your prayers as handkerchief.
If you ever wish to escape this barter,
The tunnel is only present underground-
A 6ft descent- clothed by dirt,
And funk and expensive wood.
This is what happens when the door closes-
Farewell
Mourning,
A kicked pot of water behind a shiny carriage
A wailing
Hail Madonna,
Mother of a child adopted by earthquake and aftershock,
Remember your knees in this time
Bruised knees
Eyes who will never know sleep
Inheritance of hurt
A furnace
Clenched bones
A heap of ash and memory.
Excerpts & Drafts 