Oh, sweet mother,
I surrender,
I surrender.
What can I possibly feel
that can calm your aching belly
& cleanse your innocent wounds?
I'll give it all to you,
all six million of my speeches,
all my scars I proclaimed love.
I will cover you in fragile blankets
that cannot be as fragile as your skin,
your eyes,
your breath.
I have seen those things you keep
behind your eyes,
I'm black & blue
& I long to kiss your holy cheeks.
Oh mother,
teach me to speak your language of beauty.

Poetry Magazine