I poured my love into the vessel of you

all the while knowing that I too was responsible for the cracks,

the faulty seams.

Motherhood is a fickle bitch.

Lying beneath your body, deemed failure to thrive, the heat of you

searing me

mind and spirit

thinking, this will never pass. I am tethered to this child.

Beckoned, summoned to the backyard again, and

again because you refused to pump your legs, send yourself

soaring on the swing; I will never be mine own again.

Hearing, but not recognizing my shrill voice, half- choked

swearing I Hate You Back

as a door on the third floor slams.

You remind me how many times I sent you to school

when you complained of being ill; I didn’t believe you.

You tell others about how I forced you to wear shoes that didn’t fit,

because I didn’t believe you.

Will you believe me now when I tell you, I wake from dreams certain I am

holding your small hand,

I hear laughter in the garden, and look for you, golden, throwing a ball,

I can remember all of it, all of it now, all the blood and tears,

the failures, mostly mine, the triumphs, all yours, all of it

and yes, yes, I am tethered, yes I will never be my own again

and my god, I would crawl the earth to keep it all