Like a snake,
I am shedding the flaky layer
of my estranged past.
It has hard to keep things straight-
when people press into my pain,
and say they relate to my work.
I forget what grievances I am still paying off
and I crawl on my belly
as penance to the sins of my mother
Long have I suffered
the painful tear
of her teeth in the flesh of my fruit.
A constant echo
swimming in my ears in the morning .
I carry this weight
that I did not pick up,
but had it gingerly placed in my palms.
My mother warned me to look before crossing the street,
but she could not have known that the things that trip me
live in a history book that I have not yet written.
Each morning I wake
and the sun licks my elbow
and begs for breakfast.
I mumble through the folds in my pillow-
“yes, yes I am alive-
despite my skin laying beside me.”