I told on you Mama.
told about the saline day with the blades,
in the bathroom,
on the floor.
So long your eyes glittered in the glass,
looking in,
looking out,
at me,
in the doorway,
at you,
emptying, red and endless.
I told about the tub,
the one filled with turpentine,
and sums of us,
as we washed,
fermenting,
melting into the slack.
That was before
Before you stood,
in the field,
a light falling poison snow
on your lashes
on the corn,
in your thoughts,
burning.
That was after
After you reached down my throat,
felt around,
and pulled out
the beating,
that was
me.
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