lullaby at the end of the earth

dear mom,

I'm trying

to be good. but it's cold

in the alley where I make myself a human

so you'll have to settle for

regretful deformity.

dear mom,

I'd like to say I don't tremble

at the altar of forgiveness, but the bells are

clanging out a command for

truth.

dear mom,

the sky is gray today because I opened

my mouth and a swarm of bees flew

out, stingers full of ink.

there's still a buzzing inside my stomach if you're

worried I've been suddenly left empty.

dear mom,

I think I've gone back in time, for now I find myself

three feet tall. my hands are

sticky

with sweets and the pleasant suffocation of humidity.

when I went to sleep last night the air was

dry.

dear mom,

please continue to open the door for me, so I

may remember what it feels like

to be soft.

these days, my heart resembles more a heavy stone and less

the pillow of yours on which I used to

rest my head.

dear mom,

if I was a birdcage, would you fill me with

cockatoos and parakeets and canaries

so my ribs will once again

be full of singing?

dear mom,

if I am ugly now that time has passed, will you

still bestow kisses upon my mirror

so I might see the

echo of your faith in me etched upon the glass

and remember what it means to

keep living?

dear mom,

when I scream and cry like a newborn are you

reminded of the day the universe kissed me

into existence or are you

fearful of the way I still

look so young?

dear mom,

everything is loud.

how have your eardrums not burst from the

reckless endeavors of a world

which claims to love you?

I love you more.

dear mom,

when you can't sleep, just know that

I can't sleep. know it's you

who haunts my good dreams like a pacifist spirit

and I fear it's me who lingers in the

alleyways of yours.

it's cold.

dear mom,

I'm trying to be good.

you think I'm still good, right?