Mother's Day
i used to wear a scapula
when i was young and
until i was made fun of
i never felt the wool
scratch my throat bone
or the underneath of my skull.
i thought it was talisman
to my sorrow. i never
took it off until the fray
became a way to make it
disappear, ragged as my mother's
hem end wits coming undone.
when they took her out
of her suicide skin
and made her somewhat well
on straight shots of electricity,
morphine,
and vitamin B, I gave
my bravery to her,
and dipped her chin down
to her own scapula to make it
fit over her bulging skull.
it rested like a child
come new out of the womb
limp and wrinkled and wet
from the work of her giving in
to her birth.
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