Poemify Bookstore gift card
Audio Poem on Poemify Podcast

the last time hunger threatened to kill me, 

my mother cut her flesh & fed me. 

& when my oesophagus was like a desert that

my saliva wasn’t suffice to wage war against 

under the sheets

thirst & the dryness of a threshold that paths through 

life & death, my mother fed me her blood without 

gesturing pain. maybe she forgot to write it in her face 

or perhaps she wore it like her hidden undies 

only to display the facade of her adorned sorrow, masqueraded

with a fake smile. & the last time she went naked, 

the weather was fierce, so she clothed me with her single wrapper 

because I was too young to be vanquished by the Grim Reaper. 

& the other day she made me wear her oversized shoes, 

I saw her bare foot kissing the hot ground carpeted with stones. 

to my mother, motherhood means a sleepless eye that watches 

over the child like the moon would keep vigil with unclosed eyes. 

Join Poemify Telegram Group

Leave A Reply

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.