I’ll be mother

poetry

Feb 27

Written By BA

I’ll be mother

By Priya Evans

& pour the wine into a leaking cup; see the glass crack, jagged rim, red sea, blood drip.

& curse the god that crafted me; dangled hope, creaking soul, sour rot, broken bone.

& name the unborn child tobias; watch him grow up, scrape knees, bump heads, grit teeth.

& know you didn’t mean the slap; loose tongue, knife slip, skull crack, split lip, rage hit.

& wait my life away for when someone else will mother me.

An eagle is eating my liver.