medea & our second mothers
in the sun room

1.
we all have at least two
mother's-- i of course
know my second mother best--
the one
who takes off
her shoes in the crock pot &
pulls spools of our worries
to make me a green wool poncho

2
& then of course i know medea

3.
the key is loving them both 

4.
jason-- for what is a father
without dead children?

5.
for what is a father 
without a kitchen counter
& a cycle of a laundry machine
& hanging my dresses up
to dry in the sun room
where the walls inherent 
the sky at night--

6.
there are certain deaths 
that are merciful & others
we take for vengeance--
our mother-- the sorceress
was the only one who could
understand a bloody hand
& a mouth full of gold

7.
you must learn not to
blame either of them

8.
my mothers love me
like nail polish stains on
the kitchen table--
like the nights she uncoiled
me from a snail-shell
on the windowsill

9.
my mother & i are crab cakes
with a sliver of lemon--
we are the opposite sides
of an everything bagel--
open as a ear to swallow
other people's stories--
we are ravenous listeners--

10.
our mother, medea, ate
our words with a knife 
& called it love-- etched
a memory of the ocean
into the choppy waters of
our spinal columns--

11.
my brother-- my brother
oh how does it feel to become
a metaphor--

12.
my second mother & medea 
meet in the sun room
where all serious conversations
happen-- our
clothing is damp & dangling
around them--
this is the moment so
quiet that the lights 
seem to make a sound--

13.
when i was little 
i used to look into my mother's closet
when she wasn't home--
i would try on her clothing
& watch it swallow me in fabric--
she had a full-length mirror--
the back full of makeup 
i didn't know how to use
& there was one red lipstick
i sometimes used
to draw hearts on the backs
of my hands--
i would take our her underwear 
& wonder why bras needed bows
if you were the only one
who knew they were there--
i sometimes stole her socks
in an attempt to approximate
a women on my feet

4.
jason-- for my father's 
row of tattered band t-shirts
& favorite pair of painter's
pants

2.
for the son who was spared
was not me or you--
we are the universal fatality
of the children
who get lost too far in 
our mother's closets

7.
the trick is learning to forgive
her & not blame your other
mother for watching--

6.
Corinth isn't the kind
of city that you leave
with your body--

1.
medea was the mother who
dared the unthinkable--
to kill her children out 
of something deeper than revenge--
we like to think love is only
soft but our mother's love
can be a passenger seat
& a second vial 
of blood

1.
i am alive because my mother 
used me to fill a passenger 
seat

1.
i am alive because of a corn field

1.
i am dead because there
is no real emotion for revenge

1.
i am dead because jason
isn't a father-- because 
a father hangs your dresses
in the sun room

1.
i am dead because
i'm not longer the body of
a passenger seat

1.
i am alive because
there is a crock pot
waiting for me when 
i get home-- & it's
full of shoes--

1.
there is no more gold
to eat--