my mother used to tell me as a child that I was better than she ever was
better than she’d ever be
she told me I was lighter, brighter, better, stronger
thought I didn’t need her so much
she asked the earth to swallow her up
and in her complexity
I looked for me
wrote a script and asked her to write back
write her parts when she can’t
I wished so badly I could blow her up like a big balloon
give her all my air to make her see the sky the way I could
and I began to see what she’d sewn in me intrisically
that I lay in bed with chaos next to me
that someone with inevitable sickness
was the only kind of person I wanted to share a kiss with
“love me like my mother,” I said
“love me like my mother,” I begged
hide your world behind your ribs and watch me plunge my fingers in
grab my face with both your hands and tell me
I am better than you ever were and better than you’ll ever be
tell me I am lighter, brighter, better, stronger
decide I don’t need you so much
you’d ask the world to swallow you up
and in your complexity, I’ll look for me
write a script and ask you to write back
I’ll write your parts when you can’t
I wish so badly I could blow you up like a big balloon
give you all my air to make you see the sky the way I could
but I can’t
and I won’t
a man called me an anchor once