Dragon

I
hold
the banister
of grief as I fall
down the stairs of
living without your
touch, your laughing
tears hot on bacon cheeks
wheezing, dimpled with the
stars of mother love that make
us all feel shiny and best. The special
gifts left at the feet of knowing like a lasso
hunting, strong with the pull of memories bathed
in recurring deaths, selves shed while ebullient births
midwived by your hands wriggled wet as truths, fresh to
my young eyes. Zodiac dragon and I, your egg. You watched
me as the sun rose in my hair like lavender tulle, all taut and
gathered by your sewing machine to make a tutu for dancing pas
de deux. Your scent was round like a watermelon and we ate the seeds
too. Your favorite form of charity was giving blood, and I wonder who is walking now, with you inside their veins. A roiling emptiness from lash to tip growls between my muscles. How will you tell me? Tell me, how can I be a mother without the grandness of your heaping heart?

First published May 23, 2022 in Litbreak Magazine
https://litbreak.com/an-apartment-child-dragon-johannes-vermeer-girl-with-a-pearl-earring-flamethrower-crazing-cracked/