Mother's Day
I can’t count the number of mothers I’ve had
Today I woke up feeling like a beggar
Wait, that’s not true
At first I didn’t know what day it was
But then
I remembered
And I stroked my angry little loss
Like a Persian cat in a supervillain’s lap
On this day, this annual holiday, I find
myself scrounging for narratives, for
the old fighting position
Not against my mother
But her allies
Who shred open the earth to appear like Japanese Knotweed
Never where you want them
Persistent as fuck:
The townsfolk
Random theatregoers
AT&T customer service
I forget the violence of defending my choices to utter strangers, to mild acquaintances
Here’s where she bit my sister
No, not me, she ____________.
And then she ____________________________.
So I left.
Wait, that’s not true.
I was eased out of there.
By the sister who already left
By the one who was beaten
By the one who fought back
By the one who mothered me
Ushered me
Into the arms of another
A dyke with stout calves and strong hands
Who turns heads of all genders, who went to Catholic college on a softball scholarship
Who’d take the smallest, weakest crumb of a baby and nurse it back to life
Who taught me how to swim with a school of fish
To see outside the walls of my own needs,
the structure that held out every previous siege
I became an older sister
Brothers and sisters blossomed into the garden of my life
Things no longer just HAPPENED to me and then I would deal with them. I started to move, really move. I started to respond, not react. I started to choose.
Then time.
Time and time and time.
I was mothered by my family, and I mothered my family.
Mothers can come from anywhere.
You just have to be open.
Wait, that’s not true.
Because even the chosen ones, even the healers, even the most generous people in the world, can choose differently.
You’d seen me fold, my entire life. I’d protect myself by freezing, by fleeing.
I was still a good kid.
Never tell your child they’re a ‘good kid’.
Bite your tongue before you release that curse.
Words are spells in our mouths
And you knew what you were conjuring
My sickness scared you
You thought it was catching
You promised me you wouldn’t minimize my pain
But I should’ve toughed it out
I should’ve got in the car and picked up my pain medication
I should’ve fulfilled my responsibilities
I should’ve lied still, and not made a peep
I should’ve gotten out of the bed you made for me
I shouldn’t’ve slept with him
I shouldn’t’ve let him touch me
I shouldn’t’ve been so stupid
I should’ve just disappeared
You’ve misbehaved, so badly
Good kids don’t live through mistakes
When you grow a backbone, like they asked,
be prepared
Praise be to bad kids
Pour one out for the difficult children
No more good kids!
Our cries will madden you, our demands will sink civilization, our logic with singe off every hair on your body
I’m on strike, mom. Didn’t you know?
Didn’t you see, mom?
That word tastes like pus on the page,
Like poison in my mouth.
Bad kids mother themselves.
Bad kids find bad mothers and good mothers, and temporary mothers, ride or die mothers, fair weather mothers, but we will find them.
I promise.
A bad kid’s promise is unbreakable.
Happy Mother’s Day to Meils.
Happy Mother’s Day to Hannah.
Happy Mother’s Day to Cortland.
Happy Mother’s Day to Fay and Liam and Declan and Emmett and Anya and Norau and Ronan.
Happy Mother’s Day to the Co-op.
Happy Mother’s Day to the Mountain Goats.
Happy Mother’s Day to the union.
Happy Mother’s Day to BoJack Horseman.
Happy Mother’s Day to me.
Choose your family.
Over and over and over again.
They don’t have to be the same people each time.
Every field needs a razing for the native flora to return.