Despedida

                      for all the aunties who raise us

I am the daughter
you wanted—
It’s all I wanted—to be
anywhere but here:
meningitis—overdose—
a broken heart—a stroke—

My lonely. You have orphaned me—

Please come back to bowling
alley bathrooms; I’ll scream
you aren’t the boss of me
& you can pull my hair
with lies & threats
& after—scoop me up
carry me outside, dream
me into stars & hold me
into sleep—My fierce
& demanding—

I will live with you all those times
again—furniture rearranged
from wall to window—your hunger
for color: everything highlighter
yellow, neon pink—My bright
& burning—I’ll give up
black & grey for orange & red
& all shades of blue—here—

My careful—My hands
can braid, can put on
a face, can open a drink
an avocado, my hips
to music—I will ask you still
about the lyrics—you
so skeptical of words
& distrustful of time—I know
now we don’t have to
live a year twice
the same way—

& when you left for Georgia
& why you came back—me

My older me—What your body said
as it wasted down past
muscle to bone, as the trash
piled up & the animals wrapping
their warmth around you parted
to let me in—There were drugs,
of course—My unseen—

I should hold you guilty
for so much neglect: of your own children—
for disdain: of the brother I loved—
for the men in my whole life—
I should call you to account—for never
casting back at our mothers—I believed
in your power—My fragile—My ashamed—

But I cannot hate you—for all
you broke—My broken—I
still hear you sneak
past the whole house seething—
silent into the dark room
where I cry—I feel you
lift my head onto your lap
the accidental tangle
of your hand caught
in my hair, your tears
covering my face—