IRRECONCILABLE DIFFERENCES
by Michelle Awad
I burst
forth,
slimy,
sticky,
slippery,
red,
I never stopped
being red, actually,
crying,
always crying,
maybe that’s why
I try not to
lately,
they gave me
to my mother,
and she laughed,
what the hell
am I gonna
do with you,
my father
was in the room,
or maybe he wasn’t,
probably
he wasn’t,
the second thing
I knew
after the warmth of
the womb
was the coldness of
space. My father,
the Great Collector,
of bar stools,
and gasoline
receipts, of
more women’s children
than he knew
what to do with;
I thank
whatever God
there is
for my mother,
lying there,
slimy,
sticky,
slippery,
red,
because of me,
not unafraid,
but brave,
they gave me
to her,
and she laughed,
what the hell
am I gonna
do with you,
she said, and she never
got an answer
any more
than he did.
She loved me anyway.
Mar 28, 2020
Mar 28, 2020 at 3:10 PM UTC
IRRECONCILABLE DIFFERENCES
by Michelle Awad
I burst
forth,
slimy,
sticky,
slippery,
red,
I never stopped
being red, actually,
crying,
always crying,
maybe that’s why
I try not to
lately,
they gave me
to my mother,
and she laughed,
what the hell
am I gonna
do with you,
my father
was in the room,
or maybe he wasn’t,
probably
he wasn’t,
the second thing
I knew
after the warmth of
the womb
was the coldness of
space. My father,
the Great Collector,
of bar stools,
and gasoline
receipts, of
more women’s children
than he knew
what to do with;
I thank
whatever God
there is
for my mother,
lying there,
slimy,
sticky,
slippery,
red,
because of me,
not unafraid,
but brave,
they gave me
to her,
and she laughed,
what the hell
am I gonna
do with you,
she said, and she never
got an answer
any more
than he did.
She loved me anyway.