I board the shutters and hiss at the cold winds that taunt the night air
On hands and knees I check for threats of nightmares living under bed springs
I kiss warm cheeks and wish sweet sleeps even as my ghosts surround me waist deep

The dawn’s light races with my consciousness and records its daily loss
For my unconscious beat stays ripping through the balm of desired comas hours before lids even open
Unseeing, unfeeling, this is the hour for the gnats and locusts
Gnawing through fields of bounty meant to be stored up for the waking hours
Waking, ours is a cheerful routine of good mornings filled with smiles as I ask
how are you? Did you sleep well?
Her responses ricochet off the walls of my heart speeding up the flow of heat through my very soul
All because she calls me mama

It is f’right that she calls me mama
I strap her heart to mine in a close knit entangled web of poinsettias and roses playing games of love me not
Knotting my throat in wait for the perilous ending that will surely come. Not.
I am half woman half child, no I am quarter woman 3-quarter child, no …
I am one child sawn in 4 bits and thrown to cardinal points that should have pointed me in the right direction yet threw air bombs at me and engulfed me in a triangle that shattered my adult in a quest to catch broken pieces of my child
But she’s mine – whole and complete and utterly loved

~ SM

Photo credit – Jayesh Mehta, as seen on http://desdelarepublicadominicana.blogspot.com/2013/04/madre-batalla-contra-hienas-mas-de-una.html