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
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.