“Now that it’s done, what do you have to say for yourself?”

 

here lies the enemy and the protector

whose body was both a heaven and a hell

a child is left with the dreadful thoughts—

both the grief and the regret

 

here lies the woman of my baptism

whose body became a sinking ship

that i tried to make a home out of

but it now drifts as a memory untold

 

here lies the woman whom i cursed to eternal sleep

who, because of me, is no longer liminal

whose life i took without any hesitation

without my body banished to a crucifix

or an umbilical cord wrapped around my neck

 

here lies the woman

whose child is now with freedom.

rest in peace, my dearest heart—

who i forgot. the most fucked-up childhood

can now rest beautifully.

 

here lies the woman, both bruised and kissed

blood to blood—papers and papers

here lies a woman who’s not my mother.