Napo 15: My Mom
Becoming My Mother’s Daughter
My mother: Zeus.
My mother: the god of our house,
Ruling with a mixture of love and ferocity.
My mother, a thunderclap headache
Lying on the sofa. My mother, holding
Her head in her hands in helplessness.
My mother, screaming out in pain
Some Saturday mornings,
Sundays, her Olympus ruled
By the whims of these rainstorms
That rolling in off her skull.
My mother, shaking the earth
In my bones. My mother, one eye
Drooping. My mother, a grimace
On her face. My mother, grinning
And bearing it. My mother, the bolt
Of her gaze at any peep or light
Filling the living room, opening
Her pain like a raincloud. My mother,
Begging for a wedge, a hammer,
The splitting open.
I am my mother’s daughter, now—
I sprung forth from this, her wisdom.
I realize this, supine on the sofa,
My own Olympus awash in the aura
Of another hemiplegic afternoon.