For my whole life I was my mother's

daughter. I was a hornet's nest.

I was   a staircase.

When you left me, for good. I was

her mermaid.

I was a house. I was pink and green.

I was the home my mother made.

I was my mother on a train,

my hair flew around my head like hers.

Once she fainted on the subway

from standing up too long.

It was summer   everyone was breathing.

before they fixed up all the trains.

And a big black guy caught her in

his arms. Everybody got up and

made her sit down. They gave her

water. And did she did no

she drank it.

I was my mother's commuter,

and I   tried. But

I was not good to you.