mom? (a poem on mothers and finding their reflections in every mirror we look into)

mother, there is a crack in my ribs.

i took it from you, passed on like

an heirloom jewel, a ring, a necklace,

a pretty noose with a hanging ruby pearl.

mother, my eyes aren’t yours,

but why do we have the same sadness?

why do i cry like you, why—

mother, mother, mother—

mom, can you hear me?

mommy, i’m tired.

i’m tired of carrying you around,

tired of watching my face turn into yours.

mommy, i love you,

i don’t want to be you.

mother, mommy,

i’m an idiot for thinking i could ever escape you.

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