Do you know me?
I grew up without a mother
She left when my oldest sister was three
Even when my sister was close to dying
She spent money on drugs instead of for flying

I hated my dad for keeping us away from her when I was little
When I was 16 I realized she was brittle
When it was my sister's graduation day
They talked for one minute because she had nothing to say

She told my dad that she was going to move out here
A year later and she's not even here
She gave my hopes up
So much that it felt like a breakup

She asked my dad when I was born
That pierced my heart with thousands of thorns
Does she even deserve the title mother
When she lies one after another

You, because you are here
you must know me
help me

You see, I am disconcerted
all sorts of things
do not fit

I have no drive, no fancy
I have hair on my chin
and spots on my shirt

There is buzz, there are
tiring odds and ends
my body is broken

I dream fragments
I have no overview
help me

nobody taught me how to lie.
-sat down with me, and told me
in steps, showed me to walk up a staircase,
and hide in a glass walkway.

but people gave me their hands to hold,
a crying child,
and beat me when i took those hands.
my parents brought me home and told me to bat those hands away.

i learned how to lie, when people measured me
as if i was no more than a number on a wooden ruler,
lower than their own.
today, i know i’m not.

i learned to lie, when it all became too hard to bear,
all those late nights and broken pencils
tears shed everyday, yet you doubted me.
it was real.

my best lie was taught to me by a beautiful woman
-loving her was a secret, as was loving her and her and her,
because the very people who brought me home,
pulled me away from those rulers,
told me i was wonderful,
never doubted those tears as they were wiped away
would be the ones
who could rip my heart.

when life taught me that the truth
laying yourself out
-when it really matters,
rips you apart
you learn to lie.

when life gives you a secret worse than all else,
you see the consequences words can have
-you see that you are a sinner
you learn to lie,
and you wonder if you are a lie yourself.

Daddy, can you open this jar?
Daddy, don’t forget to make my bed.
Daddy, can you make my dinner now?
Daddy, I’ve hurt my head.

Daddy, I’ve fallen over!
Daddy, I wish I could come too.
Daddy, my tummy hurts today.
Daddy, what would I do without you?

Daddy, I don’t like the doctors!
Daddy, I would like a cup of tea.
Daddy, my clothes need cleaning.
Daddy, thank you for taking care of me.

Gemma, can you open this jar?
Gemma, don’t forget to make my bed.
Gemma, can you make my dinner now?
Gemma, I’ve hurt my head.

Gemma, I’ve fallen over!
Gemma, I wish I could come too.
Gemma, my tummy hurts today.
Gemma, what would I do without you?

Gemma, I don’t like the doctors!
Gemma, I would like a cup of tea.
Gemma, my clothes need cleaning.
Gemma, thank you for taking care of me.

A child's memory
is never about play
not hangout with peers
nor running all day

It's made from the words
that his parents had said
it lingers through mornings
and stays until bed

i don’t think my mother
ever brushed my hair.
and if she did,
i can’t remember it.
i could lie and say
that i wonder why,
but i know why.
it was because
she was busy with
my sister’s brand-new curls,
busy tending to her own
dark roots and dry ends.

when i am a mother,
i will balance my sons
and daughters on my lap
and one by one
comb through
their soft mops
with patient hands.

they will never wonder
why i left them
to sort out
the knots
on their own.

they will know
i am there
to help untangle
the predestined messes
caused by the wind,
and caused by me.