My mother mourns me.
I have spent a lifetime
poking and prodding
and pulling myself
free from her hands,
and as soon as my
feet hit unguarded
ground, I never
stopped running.
Sometimes, I mourn my
mother. When she
was pregnant I'm
sure she did what mother's
do, imagined me as
a doctor, an executive,
anything. Anything
but this. Anything
but me.
