The stove tops warm
The chattering of dinner conversation fill the air
We would talk about our day, or something funny that we found

Sometimes our hands would smell like newspaper ink
from an article you shared
Or you would make fun of the chubby catfish in the tank

The food warms our hearts, no restaurant could compare
The softness of the rice reminds me of the softness of your heart
The vegetables remind me of your love
The meat and tofu remind me to stay strong
and that you are someone I can rely on

Friends may come and go
And all of us grow old
But your laughter at the dinner table
Is something my heart will always know

i've lived with you all my life
you've been there through the laughter and the heartache and the tears
you were always physically there
but never emotionally
i am your daughter through blood, but not through love
i never had the comfort of being close to you
you were always just my mother
hearing other people talking about their relationships with their moms hurts
bc i've never had that
always disappointed for my mistakes and never praise for my achievements
you were always too busy to talk
too preoccupied with my other siblings to listen
too tired to comfort me in my time of need
i've always had a mother, but i've never had a mom
you are so checked out of my life that you cant hear my cries for help
but its just a normal teenager thing, right?

Claire is cleaning fragrant poo
off her baby's buttocks
and she feels
"this experience
fulfils my need to have children
and makes me happy
but it's work!"

Claire's husband arrives home
and she asks "How was your day dear?"
and he says "I've had a long hard day at work,
and I'm tired
please give me my my dinner."
He does not asks how her day went
and Claire feels
disappointed and unhappy
that her husband
thinks that she does not earn money
and therefore what she does is not work.

As Claire
puts a white plate of steaming steak, peas, carrots, potatoes
on the dining table for her husband
she says "Would you ask me how my day went?
Mothers work too."

The nights are long but the days are longer
Only in her sleep does she exhale
The rest of the world loosening its grip

She thinks of false promises and shallow hopes
Things all too familiar by now
And swears to do better for her child

The baby on her back now a young woman too
Still her precious light and hope
"My only sunshine" in the dark

She feels her bones and flesh aching from the race
Her heart beats stronger than rising tides
An indomitable force pushing at an irrational object

And so she wakes, smiles at the sky
Fixing sunny side ups for her kin
To get by in spite of everything

is sometimes the bravest act of all

I think you're gone
but there is inside me
that voice
disapproving, judging
I had celebrated my freedom
with a Budweiser
and some tears
not realising like
Steven King's
Lawnmower Man
you had been released
into my every nerve ending
my very being
part of my matrix
in life you had the strength
of an ark angel
and as I stumble
over these words
I am afraid retribution
is at hand
I am still scared of secrets
to let too much show
you once asked if I still
write poetry after dissing it
well I'd hardly call it that
this is my fear factory

She watches her child,

and follows it in her mind --


as guardian angel.

For my mother friends:
my good gosh you are amazing.

Kids in general spew and hurl,
flail utter ******* at you
and forget the next day

boys stink,
think in straight lines ‘til they don’t,
girls twist all sorts of hate
and then hug your very soul

you are the world to them
forgoing all others
to be kicked and kissed equally

which is why you have my envy x

The freckled yellow flowers
Smell like a breath in
Roots braid and knot the ground
Mange begetting rainbows

A thousand leaves palms up to the sun
Indifferent of the rain
Weathered are the paths that led me
To my mother's garden again.

I hate calling you by the "right' name.
Mom.
I don't think you deserve that title.
I don't think you ever will.