Can someone tap into my destiny
And tell me what I'm doing wrong?

When we move from Texas to New York,
my mother’s smile slowly wilts. But she’s
smart and plucks it from her face before
my father can see.   
    
Do you know why I agreed to uproot myself?
My mother promised me a garden of my own.
My father allowed me one windowsill ***.

Now, I tear my hair out when I’m all alone.
Maybe if I plant it, a better me will spring up
like Venus from the water. For, as I am now,
I am no goddess.

My mother doesn’t stop me, only takes me
by the hand to walk through the city. Her face
is mottled purple and blue in the bright lights.

Plants can’t cry, you know. But they can bruise.
My mother watches videos of her and my father
when they were young. She asks: “Do you love me?"
and he laughs.

she can’t see the world and her
glasses are a little too big for her eyes
but she knows that god can see her
and she was taught that was all
that ever mattered. so she talked about
god and skinny dipping in the
first week of april. i think she’s been with this boy for a while
and he sees the body her mother curved out of marble.
she talked about inhaling the halos that come
out of her best friend’s mouth and she screams
“**** life” at the top of her lungs when no one is
around but god is with her; she’s in my mind and
i believe that she thinks of me in the darkest hours.

Why do you laugh when I say I love you?