Mother pays for
her sins in silences that
hug the throat like a noose

Eyes downcast and hands
wrung like twisted necks, they
droop into the wilted waist

Gunshot to the hip, I
feel it too as if I were
still in the womb

Wounded with the wounder's whip and
bruising while the bruiser bruised
she, blue on the outside and I
contused within

I'm begging you to leave but
stay here, I
hate you I love you I hate
You you
you