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Feb 2021
my mother never cried
her eyes she emptied of their water
so she wouldn't drown

she was a poetess last year
and deaf the day I was born
there was no milk left on her *******
only vinegar and blood

she strikes me just to hear the sound
my mouth a shape she cannot recognize
her fingers are hooks
sunk in my cheeks, my thighs, my spine

her anger lodged in my throat
as I try her dresses and twirl in the room
to keep her burdensome corpse company
until the coroner comes
I'll tell them she's just taking a nap

I can't explain the rot, it's been there all her life
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