she fed me clothed me kept me safe albeit in excess five layers in spite of subtropical winter heat so much to eat I needed digestive pills to ward off the stomach’s sharp protest how not to utter the un- grateful thing: that I am irrevocably her object that the poet who wrote this saved my life: Sometimes, parents & children become the most common of strangers Eventually, a street appears where they can meet again How I wished that street would appear I kept trying to make her proud of my acumen for language these words have not been for nothing I wrote to find the street where we might meet again & now there is relief guilt or blame but they are nearly always misplaced you are born into the slip- stream of your mother’s unconscious if someone had told her that the last thing a young mother needs is false decency courage & cheer she might not have hurt us both but what to do with remorse & love that comes unbidden like a generous rain how to accept her care after the storm is there a point at which the mother is redeemed the child forgiven can the origin story be re-told transfigured into the version where the garden is always paradise & no one need ever fall out of grace
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