Dear mother —
Turn off the lights.
No one deserves
to see time’s web
in full sight,
its weaving of iron
never to be broken,
adjusted to mercy.
No candle-light please,
watching life
stretch like a tear
along the threads
knowing the web
will never move
burns and burns.
Switch the whole thing
off, my heart is full
of cracks now
into which radiance
precipitates.
Dear mother —
It was better before,
when my body
was not a woman’s yet,
when he had never
touched it,
when my heart
was still unshattered.
I know I wanted it
bright, and thought
God could make it right
but I was just a kid,
with prayers white
as wax.
Expose me to the dark
if only tonight,
let me dream that
I’m not condemned
to be where he is not.
Leave the door
to the garden open
I want to hear
the crickets sing
— Goodnight.

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