In the cross of a catharsis
Clasped in hands too tired to understand
Here sit my mother’s worries
Waiting hopefully
For you to open them up like chinese takeout boxes
Put your feet up and break out the plastic forks
And dream of all the ways you could fail to make your mother understand the calmness of the gesture, the inside of my wrist against the back of your neck
And afterwards, I was too tired to make you understand
Too tired of all the little things that became big ones to break up the boredom
And all the things you said that made even the reality seem ridiculous
Pronounced as universal truths, where you are the universe
Pulling those sticky oversweet noodles apart and watching those little strings of supposed damnation snap back into hopeless fatigue
I expected something more from my sins