Mother

At my mother’s scalding breast,

I felt a touch which no comfort conferred;

Through windows of memory, I see myself shrinking

Under her hand, trained at her moods

Like seas learn the phases of their moon:

By undulations of gravity. Each day, heavier than the next.

Til a well-precipitated turn of cheek

Relieves the shoreline of her weight.

My feelings yet swim like fishes to her ebb,

A hot tide that drove them deep,

Though they remembers still,

And dance to her horrors in the dark.