Mama, 

If I break your heart, it will be like you broke mine 

one tender accident at a time 

Mama, 

You taught me that to cry you need a good reason. 

My confession to the priest: 

I’m guilty from fantasizing of being a sick child

What monster desires such a thing? 

One who was told that to cry you need a good reason. 

Mama, 

I tested the resistance of my bones

No memory of agony, 

only of felicity when I admired a proud gleam 

emanating like the steam

of your morning chai. You said: “She didn’t even cry.” 

Mama, 

I looked for the moist warmth of your womb in other people. 

an ultimate betrayal for my childhood idol

alas, no one has your peachy bouquet scent. 

Mama, 

I’m sorry if I break your heart 

one tender accident at a time.