My Mama
She who soars
Just beneath the clouds
The weight around her neck heavy
It’s too much
But she won’t say it
She won’t admit that
Her labor might have been
In vain
Her creations treat her as
The bane
Of their existence
One snip of the rope
A claw for the neck
That holds the shoe she bought
Italian leather
Dried out by the heat
Of unrequited
Love
Do they even love her
Their nose sky high
With disdain
And she holds
The might of a thousand
suns is on her shoulders
She is all dried up
Even the oil of the coconut
The olive
The seed
Has been planted
In her back
For her womb is tired
And
She is tired
My mother is tired
And no one will help
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