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Literature Text
Mother, maybe if I had listened to you
I would have been different.
I would have never loved those people
because when I’m around the hurting
I grow on them like ivy
and cling like the grip of a child’s fist
and when I told you what they practiced
you told me they were doing to themselves
what they would one day do to me
but those people never hurt me,
and I think they practiced pain only to
master what they fought against.
I do not regret the people I embraced
just as I do not regret what I have learned through them:
Mom, I think I finally understand.
Mother, maybe if I had been a shade less me
and a shade more you
you never would have tried to warn me that I was hurting you.
I would have been different.
I would have never loved those people
because when I’m around the hurting
I grow on them like ivy
and cling like the grip of a child’s fist
and when I told you what they practiced
you told me they were doing to themselves
what they would one day do to me
but those people never hurt me,
and I think they practiced pain only to
master what they fought against.
I do not regret the people I embraced
just as I do not regret what I have learned through them:
Mom, I think I finally understand.
Mother, maybe if I had been a shade less me
and a shade more you
you never would have tried to warn me that I was hurting you.
Literature
Exult
Quick frissons of joy, like a harpist
on the planck scale.
The sun is out. All has
tunneled into green. I am
an animal, after all, and so
like the lambs in my mother’s field
I want to kick up my heels.
Spring wilds through me—-my marrow
puts forth flowers. Gold and springwater.
A little easy dopamine,
honey-suckle sweet, and look, God’s
got nothing on me.
Literature
groupthink and gardens
we've grown so used to
stepping on flower buds before they can bloom because
they're a different color than everyone else's and
different doesn't fall into the category of "good" or "acceptable."
different doesn't fit here,
so we try and try again to soak stems in food colored water and
thick-coat paint on petals hoping that maybe our defects
will sprout some sense and learn to conform
and match the rest.
we took seeds from other gardens
and planted them in our own until our yards
looked the exact same as theirs and then
our flowers weren't a different color than everyone else's anymore and
that scared me.
i wanted deviation;
i had no desire
Literature
cladach eachtrach
Our shadows were children
the horizon a nightlight,
my skin Vodka white
in the womb
of the Atlantic,
bioluminescence
like sparks
conducting electricity
strip wire symphony,
naked limbs paired and
easily divided
in the remainder
wading
between constants;
prenatal combination,
the tide rolling in contractions,
and like ships to harbor
it bore us to shore.
Suggested Collections
napowrimo 12/30
4-13-15
The prompt was 'if I had listened to my mother'.
4-13-15
The prompt was 'if I had listened to my mother'.
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