"You look just like your mother"
I guess I do.
I carry her tenderness.
"You two have the same eyes"
Yes,
Cause we are both exhausted,
And the hands we share,
The wilting fingers, but the rage,
The rage I wear my mother does not.
It is the one thing I get from my father.
When my mother opens her mouth to have a conversation at dinner,
My father shoves the word hush between her lips,
And tells her never to speak with her mouth full.
This is how the women in my family,
Learned to live with their mouths closed,
Our knee's pried open by,
Cousins,
Uncles
And
Men.
Our bodies touched by all the wrong people.
Even in a bed full of safety,
We are afraid.
