Dear Mother

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I sometimes wish to know who you are
I linger along clues of who you might be
Or what you see in me.
I hope to gain knowledge
Of what brings you joy
What if I learn your favorite color?
If it is Red I shall rip the skin from my body.
So the blood as red as roses pours from My hands,
Maybe then you will have desire of holding me.
Or what if I learn your favorite food?
If it is bread I shall wrap my body in dough.
Light a fire so I shall cook in its tastefulness,
Maybe then I shall receive a kiss from you.
Tell me what is needed from me
To get you to open your body from the confides
Of your blanket
Tell me what is needed from me
To stop the slow finger of death from caressing your forehead
Tell me please!
Before I never get the chance to color you a picture
With the blood of my flesh
Or before I get the chance to bake a loaf of bread
With the dough from my crisp fingers
I sometimes wish to know who you are
I linger along clues of who you might be
Please tell me
Before it’s too late





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